All My Children
by Deref Thea-Zara
Summary: You know how it ends. This is how it began.
1. Default Chapter

"MORGENDORFFER!"

Cadet Morgendorffer stood at rigid attention as the Corporal, hands behind his back, slowly surrounded him in a one-man ambush.

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"What are YOU gonna do when the commies arrive, Morgendorffer?"

Jake swallowed noisily, feeling the eyes of his platoon drilling into him, greedily tasting his discomfort, each one thankful that it was Jake, not him, on the receiving end of Corporal Ellenbogen's taunts. Thankful but still, Jake knew, contemptuous.

"The commies?"

"WHAT?"

"The commies, Sir?"

"That's right, Morgendorffer. The commies. The stinking, red flag waving, slogan chanting, Godless, vodka drinking, sister raping, freedom hating COMMIES!"

"Er, do, Sir?"

"CAN'T YOU SPEAK IN SENTENCES OF MORE THAN THREE WORDS, MORGENDORFFER?"

"Sir, yes Sir!" 

Ellenbogen's face was inches from Jake's. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that it was his father, "Mad Dog" Morgendorffer, standing there bellowing at him. He had to concentrate to stop himself from gagging.

A titter escaped from the platoon. Jake felt the heat of a blush extending from his neck to his face and he loathed himself for his weakness.

Ellenbogen smelled victory and turned from Jake to the platoon.

"YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY DO YOU? Well let me tell you, you pack of pussies, the commies are no laughing matter! They'd stick a knife - or worse - into your sister, or your mother, and they'd laugh while they were doing it." He paused for effect. "And that, my friends, is why we're here. Our country's depending on us - you and me - to defend it when that time comes. And believe me, it's gonna come! Sooner than you think!

Jake felt himself drifting off as Corporal Ellenbogen launched into another one of his endless tirades against the commies. If the commies did come, he thought, a bunch of kids with rifles wouldn't be much use against atomic bombs. Of course Mad Dog wouldn't see it that way. Oh no. Mad Dog would be right there behind Ellenbogen, yelling at Jake to catch the bombs as they fell and screaming at his uselessness as he failed, as he always did, dooming America and the Free World to nuclear Armageddon, eternal rule by the commies, his fault...his fault...

"I SAID IS THAT RIGHT, MORGENDORFFER?"

Jake snapped out of his reverie. He had no idea of what Ellenbogen had been saying. He took a gamble.

"Sir, yes Sir!" he snapped with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Jake heard the laughter of his "buddies". Wrong answer. Again.

* * *

"You goin' to the dance tomorrow night, Morgendorffer?"

Jake lay back on his bunk, past seething in indignation. These days it just washed over him. He didn't need to be reminded of his worthlessness, it was a fact of life. His father knew it, Corporal Ellenbogen knew it, his platoon buddies knew it, and he knew it.

Johanssen raised his foot and prodded Jake through the mattress from the bunk below. "I said are y' goin' t' the dance?"

"Oh. Yeah. I mean no. I mean...I don't know. What's the point?"

Johanssen stood up and leaned against the top bunk, staring into Jake's face in mock surprise. "The point? What's the point? Damn, Jakey, you ain't goin' all queer on me now, are ya? Chicks, man! Chicks! That's the point! You remember what chicks are, don't ya, Jakie?"

Jake smiled despite himself. Johanssen was about the only one who bothered to talk to him these days, though that was probably just because he occupied the bunk below. "I remember. I just don't see any point. No chicks are going to pay any attention to me. It'll be like all the other times. You-know-who will be surrounded by girls and I'll hang around the punch bowl until it's time to get back to school. Why bother?"

"Your choice, man. But one thing's for sure - ain't gonna be no chicks _here_ tomorrow night! 'Sides, if you don't come, ain't gonna be no-one less attractive to them chicks than me! Haw haw!"

When Johanssen laughed his buck teeth stuck out even further than usual. Sadly, Jake recognised that he was right. Even acne-scarred, buck-toothed Johanssen managed to strike up the odd conversation with a girl from time to time, but none of them had ever shown any interest in Jake. _What the hell,_ he thought, _it beats sitting around at school all night while everyone else is out having fun_. He and Johanssen were usually wallflowers anyway, at least they could keep each other company.

"Yeah, okay Johanssen. I'll come."

Johanssen grinned and punched Jake in the arm. "Yee-haw! That's mah man! You never know, Morgendorffer, you just might get lucky."

"And the commies might just shit in Ellenbogen's shoes again, eh?"

That set Johanssen off on another laughing jag.

* * *

"Going to spend the night keeping the punch bowl company again, Morgendorffer?" The voice made Jake cringe. A whole bus full of seats and Corporal Ellenbogen's son had to sit right behind him and Johanssen. Andrew Jackson Macarthur Ellenbogen Jr. One year ahead of Jake - mercifully - at least he'd graduate this year. A chip off the old block and someone not to be trifled with, on his own account or his father's. Known, when he was reliably out of earshot, simply as Junior but, to his face, as Ellenbogen.

Johanssen spun around enthusiastically and grinned at Junior . "Naw, Ellenbogen. Jake's gonna get lucky tonight, aren't ya Jakey?" He punched Jake in the shoulder again.

Jake knew that Johanssen meant well, but he wished he wouldn't.

Junior ignored Johanssen and concentrated on Jake. "Lucky? You? Hah! You know why you're never gonna get lucky, Morgendorffer?"

"No." Jake muttered, thinking _but I'm sure you're gonna to tell me and the rest of the bus_ and, again, sensing the rising heat of a blush on his cheeks and the rising gorge of self-loathing he felt whenever Ellenbogen or Junior bullied him.

"Because you're a PUSSY, Morgendorffer. Women like men who know how to look after themselves. Women want to know their place, know who's the boss." His voice became less strident and he leaned back against the seatback, placing his hands behind his head. "Yes, sir, that's what a woman needs. A firm hand to keep her in line. Not like these damn hippie whores, talking about peace and equality. When they can carry a gun, pilot a fighter jet, captain a ship, then they can talk about equality!" He tensed and leaned forward again. "They're all commies you know, Morgendorffer. That's what those damn filthy hippies are. COMMIES. They're all part of a plot to subvert all that's good and decent about America! Goddamn, son, if any woman of mine started talking like that she'd damn soon learn which way was up!" He punched his open palm.

Johanssen laughed uneasily and, caught between the collective need to avoid antagonising Junior and a residual sense of empathy with his bunkmate, flashed Junior a half-hearted grin.

"You mark my words, Morgendorffer," Junior continued. "If you want to pull a woman tonight, start acting like a man and not a pussy. Let her know you're the boss."

"Thanks for the advice, Ellenbogen." Jake muttered darkly. _Hope your ass explodes_ he thought. He spent the rest of the bus ride trying to reconcile the revulsion he felt for Junior and his advice with the terrible possibility that he may be right. After all, that was the way that his father always treated his mother, wasn't it? And Junior himself never seemed to have any trouble getting girls. He shuddered at the thought. _If that's what it takes I'll stay single_.

Buxton Ridge Military Academy and Saint Agnes's School for Young Ladies had a longstanding arrangement. Three times a year the upperclassmen from Buxton Ridge Military Academy were bussed to the Saint Agnes's for a dance in the gym. The Harvest Ball, Winter Ball and Spring Fling were chances for disciplined young men and good Catholic girls to meet and socialise in a supervised environment. Neither the nuns from St Agnes's or the staff from Buxton Ridge had any need to worry about inappropriate influences. A band, comprising a piano player, saxophonist and drummer, none of whom were younger than 60 when they'd first been hired fifteen years ago, provided wholesome music (although Mother Superior had commented the previous year that she had detected a hint of that sinful jazz influence in the Pride of Erin, and that had put a stop to _that_). The cadets in their freshly-ironed dress uniforms and the young ladies in their modest dresses were allowed to socialise until the wee small hour of 11:00pm sharp under the watchful gaze of the nuns and Academy staff. The evenings always commenced with a welcome and prayer by Mother Superior followed by a response from the accompanying Academy officer - in this case, Corporal Ellenbogen, Jake's nemesis and father of Jake's nemesis.

As the bus pulled up outside Saint Agnes's Corporal Ellenbogen stood and addressed the cadets. 

"At ease, men." He looked a Jake. "And boys. As always, I require every one of you to uphold the dignity of Buxton Ridge tonight. And by 'uphold the dignity' I mean that I catch any one of you with his hand down or up the dress of any of the Saint Agnes girls, I will personally feed your sorry ass, finely chopped, to my Dobermans without first removing it from your broken and bleeding body. And your privates will decorate my Christmas wreath. Is that clear?"

"SIR, YES SIR!" chorused the cadets.

"Now I know that many of you are not of the Catholic faith, nevertheless I expect you to respect the dignity of Saint Agnes's tradition during Mother Superior's introductory prayer. Is that also clear?"

"SIR, YES SIR!" 

"Then PRO-ceed."

The cadets filed off the bus and into the gym, which the girls had decorated with Christmas scenes and red, white and blue paper streamers. A sheet, painted with the words "Merry Christmas Buxton Ridge Cadets" had been hung on the far wall and the Michael O'Flaherty All Stars, dressed in tuxedos that were unashamed of their proud years of service, sat under the welcome banner. When the cadets had filed in and lined up, Mother Superior stepped up to the microphone.

"Would the girls sitting along the benches at the side cross their legs please? Thank you. Now that the gates of Hell are closed, it is my pleasure to once again welcome the fine young men from Buxton Ridge to Saint Agnes's. I know that you're all eager to join in the festivities tonight so I won't bore you with formalities. Let us begin with the traditional prayer." The assembled cadets and young ladies bowed their heads reverentially. "Heavenly Father, we give thanks to you for once again bringing us together in a night of wholesome intercourse." Corporal Ellenbogen cast a wary eye over the assembled cadets to ensure that no one disgraced the Academy by snickering. "Watch over us and keep us from unholy influences and sinful temptations of the flesh that we may not burn in the eternal fires of damnation where unspeakable torments await young people unable to control their sinful primal urges. Amen."

"Amen" echoed the multitude. The Catholics among the cadets and all the young women crossed themselves.

Corporal Ellenbogen addressed the microphone for the response. "Thank you Mother Superior for that inspiring prayer. On behalf of the cadets of Buxton Ridge I'd like to thank you, the Sisters of Saint Agnes, and the charming young ladies for your warm welcome. Let the dance begin."

The All Stars took their cue and launched into a rousing rendition of _When Irish Eyes are Smiling_, played strictly _a tempo_ ever since Michael O'Flaherty had introduced two bars of syncopation last year and earned the wrath of Mother Superior. The cadets broke ranks and started to mingle.

Cadets Morgendorffer and Johanssen ambled listlessly over to the punch bowl which had been set up opposite the band. Johanssen eagerly cast around for a possible target, landing on, then immediately rejecting as way out of his league, the group of three immaculately-dressed girls whose figures their modest clothes were doing a heroic, but ultimately hopeless, job of camouflaging. Junior, he noticed, was making a bee line for them anyway. He dug Jake in the ribs. "No shortage o' talent here tonight eh, Jakey boy? And I don't mean the band! Haw haw."

"Dammit Willie! You nearly made me spill the punch." exclaimed Jake, but Johanssen's attention was elsewhere. Jake turned to follow his gaze. Approaching them was a plump dark-haired girl who, it seemed, shared Johanssen's predilection for pimples. She took a glass off the table and lowered the ladle into the bowl. Johanssen grinned at her, displaying as fine a set of teeth as was ever contained in two mouths. Assuming that the sophisticated approach stood the best chance of success, he grinned at her and said "Well now, ain't you the purdy one!"

She looked up, a non-committal expression on her face.

Johanssen snapped to attention and saluted. "Cadet Willie Johanssen, at y'r service, ma'm!"

She continued to size him up, looking him over with a practiced eye. Finally all the pieces came together and she made a decision. "Say, Cadet Willie Johanssen, you wouldn't just happen to have a chocolate bar on you now, would you?"

Johanssen's grin, in contravention of all the known laws of both physics and dentistry, widened. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a Three Musketeers bar, somewhat limp but still recognisable, and offered it to her.

She smiled the victorious smile of someone whose chocolate detection system had, once again, passed a crucial battlefield test. "So, Cadet Willie Johanssen," she purred, taking the proffered gift and offering him her arm, "come and sit down and tell me all about yourself, you big, strong military type man."

Johanssen took her arm and let her lead him off towards the benches that had been set up along the side walls of the gym, looking back at Jake over his shoulder with a look that screamed "Got me a live one here, Jakey boy!"

Jake sighed. He looked over at the group of three girls who, by now, had surrounded Junior. Junior was in full flight, miming a person climbing a ladder, looking around, freezing, then blubbering. He looked back towards Jake, indicating him with a flick of his head. The girls turned, stared at Jake and burst out laughing. Jake sighed again and turned back towards the punch bowl, intent on drowning his sorrows in the heady mix of orange and pineapple juice. Canned cherries bobbed around in the bowl like putrefying goldfish floating atop a stagnant aquarium.

Jake stared out across the gym, not seeing anything, not feeling anything, not thinking anything, drifting along in merciful nothingness. A harsh voice behind him startled him back to the present.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, clumsy?"

He spun around to see the group of three girls and Junior just as one of the girls bumped into the back of another who'd just poured herself a glass of punch, spilling it down her dress. The group walked off laughing. The girl whose punch had spilled looked down at herself, sadly assessing the damage.

Jake pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and reached across the punch bowl, offering it to her. "Damn. I mean gosh, you know I think she did that on purpose!"

She looked up, sniffed back a tear, and gratefully accepted the handkerchief, dabbing ineffectively at the spilled punch. "Thanks," she said, smiling wanly at him. "They're always doing stuff like that." Looking down, she realised that the handkerchief wasn't going to do much good on the sticky juice. She looked back up at Jake. "I'm going to have to go into the Ladies room and try to rinse some of this out. Can I..." she looked down at the handkerchief.

Jake caught himself staring. "Wha...oh...uh..yeah - of course!" He smiled at her.

"Thanks." she said, distractedly returning his smile and striding damply off towards the ladies' washroom.

Jake stared after her, mesmerised by the way her shoulder-length honey blond hair moved as she walked. The unmistakeable bray of Johanssen's laugh, followed immediately by a horse cackle from his new companion made him turn back towards the dance floor where groups of cadets and their partners were performing a Texas Twostep which Johanssen obviously found hilarious. Jake watched with a combination of envy and ennui.

"That's a little better, but your handkerchief's soaked I'm afraid."

He turned to see the girl standing behind him.

"I think I got the worst of the punch out. It's only water now. I'll wash your handkerchief and get it back to you if that's okay."

"Handkerchief? What? Oh, yeah, no problem." Jake felt a familiar sensation of heat ascending his face, but this time without any of the familiar feelings of loathing that accompanied it.

She smiled again. "I'm Amanda. Amanda Phillips."

Jake stared at hazel-green eyes. "Amanda." he breathed.

Her smile turned to a grin. "And you're..."

"Amanda."

"No, I'm Amanda. You're..." She waited, slowly nodding encouragingly.

Jake shook himself. "JAKE!" He shouted then, realising what he'd done, said "Jake Morgendorffer. I mean..." he snapped to attention as Johanssen had done. "Cadet Jake Morgendorffer at your service, Ma'm!"

She politely stifled a chuckle. "It's a pleasure to meet you Jake. And it's Amanda, not Ma'm."

By this time Jake was doing a passable imitation of a beet. "Oh," he stammered. "Oh, the pleasure's all...mine." He forced himself to regain some composure. "I'm sorry about your dress. I hope it isn't...um...damaged."

Amanda looked down at her dress again then back at Jake. "No, it'll be alright, but it's uncomfortable." She looked around for an open door. "Maybe we could go outside. There's a breeze. It might help me to dry off."

Jake tried to stop himself from looking around to see who was behind him, not quite believing that Amanda was talking to him. He swallowed noisily again. "Outside? Can we go outside?" he looked around the gym. "I mean are we allowed to? I thought we had to stay in here."

"There's a balcony over there." She indicated a door. "There's always a nun standing guard out there but at least it's outside." 

Like Johanssen's friend had done, she offered Jake her arm. He looked, half-understanding what was expected of him, but too dumbfounded to move. Amanda smiled again, took his hand and put it on her arm, then led him to the balcony. The mid-January night was cool and clear, a high waning gibbous moon washed out the stars and a light breeze blew from the south.. At the far end of the balcony a nun sat under a light reading a black-bound Bible with one eye while she watched out for potential sin with the other. The noise from the gym was muted out here and they walked up to the steel railing that surrounded the low concrete balcony. Steps leading down to the school grounds had been roped off to prevent escape, but the sounds from inside provided enough background for them to feel a sense of modest privacy providing they spoke quietly.

Jake broke out into a sweat. _Say something, dammit,_ his mind urged, but his mouth refused to co-operate. Finally he forced out the first line he could think of. "Do you come here often?"

Amanda again stifled a laugh. "I go to school here. Actually, I live here too. I'm a boarder."

The weight of his inadequacy descended on Jake like a cartoon anvil on an animated coyote. He deflated, and with the realisation that both he and Amanda were wasting their time, he lost his nervousness. He looked straight at her, his face showing his disappointment. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what, Jake? I don't understand."

"I can't pretend to be...I don't know. Anything. I mean I know that I should make witty conversation, or be charming, or funny, or manly, or something like that, but I can't and I'm not. Ellenbogen's right. I'm a pussy." He turned towards the door. "Come on. It's cold out here and you're wet. You should go and talk to your friends. I'll keep the punch bowl company until it's time to go."

She reached out and took his arm, stopping him from walking off. "Jake, I didn't want you to be any of those things! I just wanted to talk to you. Besides..." That sadness crossed her face again. "I don't have any..." A light dawned. "Um, you don't get to talk to girls much, do you?"

His face fell further. "I guess it's obvious."

"It is a little." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "Brr, you're right, Jake. It is cold."

Jake started. "Oh darn - what was I thinking! I'm sorry!" He slipped his jacket off and put it round her shoulders. 

She wrapped the coat around her shoulders and looked up at him. "Thanks, but now you're going to be cold."

"Oh, I'm fine. I don't feel the cold," he lied. "But what happened in there with the punch? Why did that girl bump into you? She did it on purpose didn't she?"

Amanda turned to look out over the railing, across the school. "Sandra. She's been like that to me since I started here. She's one of the 'popular' girls - you know the type. They pick on anyone who isn't part of the 'in' crowd, who don't share their obsession with fashion and dating. I guess I'm one of her favourite punching bags. I've never really felt like I belonged here." Jake couldn't see her face, but heard the change in her voice, and he felt what she felt.

"I can't believe that," he said quietly. "How could anybody not like you?"

"I guess it's easy. If you don't fit in with the way everyone else thinks, you end up being the butt of the jokes. I don't suppose you'd understand."

"Understand? Oh God! I mean Oh Gosh! You've just described me! Did you see that guy with them?" She nodded, surprised at the animation in his voice. "That's Andrew Jackson Macarthur Ellenbogen Jr. He's the son of the bas...the guy who made the speech. Between the two of them they've made my life miserable since I got sent to that rotten, stinking, lou..." He caught himself and blushed again. "Oh damn...I mean darn...I'm sorry."

She laughed and smiled at him, nodding towards the nun who had raised both eyes to glare at Jake. "I don't mind, but I think you'd better tone it down a little. Sister Assumpta's about to blow a fuse."

Jake looked round and grinned nervously at Sister Assumpta. "Pardon me, Sister. It won't happen again."

Sister Assumpta stared over the top of her spectacles. "I should hope not, young man! One can be expressive without being offensive, and particularly without taking the Lord's name in vain!" she said in a voice that was surprisingly free of malice, then looked down at her bible again.

Amanda stared past Jake to where the nun sat in the cold light of the lamp. "She's actually very nice - my art teacher. She's been the only person here who I actually think of as a friend." She looked up at Jake. "We've got something in common I guess."

"Hey! I guess we have!" Jake grinned, relaxing a little. 

He listened to Amanda talk about how Sister Assumpta had nurtured her love of art, amazed at the way she described the sensuous feel of wet clay on the wheel beneath her fingers. Sometimes, she said, it made her feel as if a living thing was taking shape in her hands. She felt the genuineness of Jake's empathy when she described how the other girls teased and bullied her because she didn't care about clothes or boys, or how she'd rather read a book than go to the movies. He told her about his father, Mad Dog, about how he hated military school, how he hated Junior and his father and everything they stood for. She told him about the school, pointing to the building across from the gym. "See the second window on the left down the bottom?" He nodded. "That's my room."

"You have your own room? Wow! We have dormitories with 40 kids each in them! Your parents must be rich!"

She laughed in surprise. "No! Nothing like it. We live in the next county, about three hours away by bus. When I started here I used to be a day girl. I'd get up at four in the morning and get home at eight at night. I was so tired when I got home that I'd just go to bed. They could have sent me to a closer school, but Dad wanted me to go to a Catholic school and Saint Agnes's was the closest school big enough for me to study art. Dad works really long hours to pay for me to board. The rooms are tiny. They used to be nuns' cells."

"Cells?" exclaimed Jake. "This was a jail? For nuns?"

"No!" She chuckled. "It was a convent. Cells was what they called the rooms that the nuns slept in. They're really only big enough for a bed and a desk, but they let us have some posters on the wall."

"Oh. Well, you're still lucky. We don't get any privacy at all." Bitterness crept into his voice. "I hate it."

Amanda started as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the face of Sister Assumpta. "It's almost ten thirty, dear. I know you haven't noticed, but your friend here has been shivering for the last half hour. Perhaps you'd both better go in and warm up before the boys have to leave."

Amanda looked at Jake with horror. "Oh Jake - I'm so sorry!" She slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him, then turned to Sister Assumpta. "Thank you Sister."

"Oh, I'm sure your young friend hadn't noticed. You two have been lost to the world. Now go in and get warm."

Jake slipped on his jacket. He hadn't noticed how cold he was until she'd mentioned it. "Thanks Sister," he grinned as they walked towards the door. Sister Assumpta smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "She's pretty cool for a nun. Are you dry?"

Amanda nodded. "I've been dry for an hour." She stopped and turned to Jake. "I've really enjoyed talking to you, Jake. Do you...I mean...do you think we could...?"

Jake swallowed noisily again. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and the easy rapport between them vanished as quickly as it had come. He blushed. "Do you mean...could we...?"

Amanda felt herself blushing, but she steeled herself. "Could we get together again some time? I mean do they let you out?"

Jake felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah. Yeah - we get free time on Saturdays. Maybe we could..."

"Maybe we could meet for a soda or something? On the Saturday after school gets back from Christmas break?"

"Do you know Gilberts? The malt shop on Manson Street?"

"Next to the drug store? Sure"

"Uh, how about midday Saturday? Could you be there?"

She nodded. "Uh huh."

There was a pause as they stared uncertainly at each other. Finally, Jake looked up at the clock. "We've got another half hour. Do you want to sit down?"

"Sure."

Jake looked around, saw some space next to Johanssen and his friend and started walking over to it, Amanda walking beside him. As they moved, their hands brushed. Though neither of them could remember later who had made the first move, when they sat down they were holding hands.

* * *

Amanda watched the bus leave, too focused on the disappearing tail lights to notice that Sister Assumpta was standing beside her.

"I get the impression you like him."

Amanda kept her eyes on the bus's tail lights as it turned the corner at the end of the street, hoping that the darkness was concealing the colour in her face. "He's nice."

Sister Assumpta smiled gently, looking at the way Amanda was holding Jake's now dry handkerchief tightly in her hand. "I hope you'll be able to convince him to tone down his damn language," she deadpanned.

Amanda spun round to stare at the nun, her mouth open in shock. It was the first time she'd ever heard any of the sisters swear, but the sparkle in Sister Assumpta's eyes gave her away, and they burst out laughing.

* * *

The rest of Jake's week passed in a haze, much of it filled with visions of Amanda. Johanssen was as taken with Hilda as Jake was with Amanda, but there the similarity ceased. Where Jake was tongue-tied when he tried to talk about Amanda, so he tended not to, Johanssen would bray continuously about Hilda's endearing qualities.

"I tell ya, Jakey, she's one fine mess o' woman. Man! Did you see the way she attacked that chocolate bar? Like a hound on a prime rib! My, but that was a fine site t' see!"

Jake couldn't help smiling at Johanssens' enthusiasm. He leaned over the side of the bunk to see Johanssen lying back with his hands behind his head and a grin wide enough to contain most of his teeth. "So what is it with you and, uh, ample women, Johanssen? I mean you're as skinny as a rake. What is it? Attraction of opposites?"

Johanssen turned to look up at Jake's upside down face. "Well lemme tell ya, Jake. Before my daddy packed me off t' Buxton Ridge he took me aside and he said to me 'Willy,' he said - he always called me Willy, 'cause of that's m' name -'Willy,' he said, 'when the time comes for ya to find yerself a wife, take my advice, son. Find yourself a woman who likes her food. It's a sure thing that woman as likes her food's gonna be a good cook. And son,' sometimes he called me 'son', too, 'Son,' he said, 'there ain't nothin' as is more important in a wife than bein' a good cook.' An' Jake, I always listened to what m' daddy told me. He was fine man, m' Pa, God rest his soul."

"So your Mom was a good cook?"

"A good cook? Haw haw!" Johanssen brayed. "A good cook? Jake, my Ma couldn't cook t' save herself. I mean look at me! If Ma could cook do you think I'd be skinny as last year's scarecrow now? Oh no. I'm sure it was Ma's cookin' that sent daddy off to a early grave. Not that she didn't mean well, mind, but Lord, when we was young 'uns, Pa used ta use her hotcakes fer shoe leather, an' I'll tell ya Jake, our shoes just used ta last an' last. Haw. Good cook! That's rich!" But he caught himself and looked at Jake seriously. "Don't get me wrong, Jakey - I love m' Ma - she just cain't cook fer nuts. Never could."

Jake could never tell whether Johanssen was joking or not, but there was no doubt that he was as happy as a man could be at having met Hilda.

"So, Jake, what I did was, I decided to always carry a chocolate bar around with me, 'cause it seemed t' me that a woman who liked her food'd be pleased t' see a man who came prepared for a famine, and Lord, didn't that pay off, I swear!"

"You'd better stock up then."

"I'm way ahead o' ya, Jakey." He grinned, got up and opened his footlocker, and triumphantly pulled out a carton of two dozen Three Musketeers bars and another of Snickers. "So who'd a' thunk it, eh, Jakey boy? You an' me gettin' lucky on the same night! That Amanda, she's a pretty one alright. Too skinny fer my likin' o' course, but pretty all the same."

Jake lay back and sighed. "For the first time in my life someone actually likes me for who I am. I don't have to try to be something I'm not with her." He looked back over the edge of the bunk. "I think I love her, Willy."

"Couldn't a' guessed in a million years, Jakey, not in a million years! Haw haw."

* * *

Most of next week was taken up with pre-Christmas preparations and the routine relaxed a little. 

The Wednesday before Christmas break was traditionally given to the cadets to go into town to get any last-minute Christmas shopping done. For Jake it was traditionally a time of resentment and anger and the older he got the worse it was. The older he got the less he could accept that giving presents at Christmas was something you just did, and the more he understood it was something you did for people you cared about. Did he care about Mad Dog? Oh yeah. He cared alright. He cared enough to fantasize about how good it would be when he died. He cared enough to understand that his mother was afraid of his father so much that she could never take Jakey's side, but had to support Mad Dog. For fear of what he'd do to her? He loved his mother. She was the only source of love he'd ever known, though fear of Mad Dog tempered that love. He could buy something for his mother. Not much of course. His allowance was small, but he didn't have anything to spend it on most of the time so he managed to save most of it. But buy something for Mad Dog? How much was hemlock? Wasn't that what that Greek guy drank when he committed suicide? Was death by hemlock poisoning painful? He hoped so. Could you buy hemlock from the druggist? Gift wrapped? 

"Here Dad, this is for you." 

"Hemlock? Gee, thanks Son. I'll drink it now."

"Yeah. You do that, Dad. Drink up, Shriner."

The shopping trip ended, as it had these past few years, with a pair of socks for Mad Dog and a handkerchief for his Mom, gift wrapped at the store with a little card on each, printed with a snowy Christmas scene and the words "To:" and "From:" with space for writing the names. On the socks he wrote "Dad" and "Jake", on the handkerchief "Mom" and "Jakey, with love." He felt as empty as the the gesture.

By Thursday afternoon most of the cadets had packed their bags ready for the break. On Friday morning some would be picked up by their parents, some would take taxis to the airport and some, like Jake and Willy, would take the bus to the train station.

They were sitting around quietly, each with his own thoughts, when Corporal Ellenbogen opened the door and walked in followed by a gust of cold wind. The cadets jumped off their bunks but Ellenbogen growled "At ease" and strode over to Jake, who, by then, was standing at the foot of his bunk. Ellenbogen handed Jake an envelope.

"Letter from your Father, Morgendorffer." said Ellenbogen. A shot of adreneline coursed though Jake's system. Ellenbogen never spoke quietly.

Jake took the envelope, addressed to Corporal Ellenbogen, and took out the small note inside.

_Corporal,_

_Don't send my son home this Christmas. His mother and I will be visiting her family in Toronto._

_T. E. "Mad Dog" Morgendorffer_

Jake looked up at Corporal Ellenbogen. "But..." he stammered.

"You're a big disappointment to your father, Morgendorffer." Ellenbogen growled. He turned and strode out, leaving Jake holding the note, staring at the space that the Corporal's face had occupied seconds before.

"Jakey?"

Without looking round Jake passed the note back to Willy.

"Visiting your Ma's folks in Toronto? I didn't know your Ma had folks in Toronto."

"She doesn't. Her family's from Saint Paul Minnesota."

"But what...oh. So what...?"

Jake climbed up on his bunk again. "Simple. They don't want me to come home for Christmas. I think they'd be happiest if I never came back."

"Damn, Jakey. I just can't figure that yer folks wouldn't want y' at home at Christmas. I'm real sorry, man."

Jake looked inside himself and found nothing. "I'm not." He peered down over the edge of the bunk. "You know, I don't even think I care. In fact maybe it's a good thing."

Johanssen looked into Jake's face. "No, man! No. How can that be good? You should love yer Ma and Pa, and they should love you. It ain't right. I'm real, real sorry."

Jake lay back on his bunk "I've told you what it's like, Willy." His voice was neutral.

"Yeah. I know, Jakey. I'm still sorry though."

* * *

On Friday morning the dormitory emptied. Jake lay back on his bunk, ignoring the bustle and being ignored by it. Everyone knew the story, but they were either too embarrassed to mention it or, more likely, just didn't care.

Before he left Willy stood by Jake's bunk and held out his hand. Jake took it and they shook. "Merry Christmas Jakey. See you real soon eh?"

"Merry Christmas Willy. Have fun." They dropped hands. "This is the first Christmas you'll spend without your Pa, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He paused. "Yeah, it is. It's gonna be hard on Ma."

"I'm sorry Willy. Wish her merry Christmas from me, will you."

"I will Jakey. See y' in a few days, ok?"

Jake managed a smile. "OK. See you, Willy."

He watched Willy walk out and heard the bus pull away a few minutes later. The last of the cadets left and closed the door. 

Jake was no stranger to aloneness. Nevertheless, the emptiness of the dorm seemed to close in on him, the void outside mocking the void inside. If he'd felt sorrow or anger he would have felt...normal. But he was empty. Filled with nothingness.

The days that followed were his. No-one bothered him. A skeleton staff stayed on at the Academy to look after the resident teaching and grounds staff. He picked up his meals from the refectory and could eat them there or in the dorm, though he usually ate alone in the refectory because it was less trouble. Sometimes he sensed that the kitchen staff felt sorry for him, but the more he thought about the horrors of another Christmas at home, with Mad Dog using every opportunity to tell him what a disappointment he was, the better he felt about being at school. Sometimes he'd walk around the grounds. A river - more of a wide stream - ran past the south boundary and on into the town. Sometimes he'd sit and watch the water, letting his thoughts drift with the ripples, and he found, more often than not, they turned to Amanda.

Christmas day was a Monday and it passed like all the other days except that there was Turkey with cranberry sauce and gravy and sweet potato pie for dinner. On Wednesday there was a card for him, waiting at the place he always sat, though he had the run of the tables. He didn't recognise the writing, but the spelling made him suspect who it was from. He opened the envelope, ignoring the smiling snowman and Santa Clause on the front.

_Jakey,_

_Im sorry that you didnt get home for Christmas. I told Ma what you said. She cried. She wanted me to bring you some of the Christmas cake she made but I told her you were alergick to cake. Its ok - you dont have to thank me. We visited Pas grave on Christmas Day. Im real sorry hes gone. I wish you could of had a Pa like mine Jakey._

_I hope your feeling ok. Im sure looking forward to seeing Hilda when I get back. I guess your looking forward to seeing Amanda to. Maybe if you think a lot about her you wont feel bad._

_Merry Christmas._

_Your friend Willy_

Jake never decided, even years afterward, whether the tears were for himself or for Willy and his Mom.

But Willy was right. Jake's thoughts were increasingly filled with Amanda. And it was good.

On Tuesday, January 2nd the kids returned, happy, refreshed, with Christmas presents to show off and talk about. Jake was glad to see them back though none of them, with the exception of Willy, took any notice of him, nor he of them. They just filled some of the emptiness. By the end of the week things were, relatively, back to normal. 

And then it was Saturday.

* * *

A dozen cadets filed out of the bus as it pulled up in the main street and went their separate ways. Half of them - including, to Jake's chagrin, Junior - headed in the direction of Gilbert's Malt Shop.

Before the door had closed behind them Joahnssen dug Jake in the ribs with his elbow, nodding towards a booth about half way down on the left. Hilda was facing the door and as soon as she caught sight of them she spoke eagerly to the person sitting opposite her, identifiable only by a blond head visible over the seat back. Hilda grinned and beckoned. Johanssen strode over to the booth and slid in beside Hilda, flashing her a smile that would have been a yard wide if all his teeth had been lined up together. Jake approached more cautiously. Amanda turned toward him and smiled. Jake froze, unable to work out where the music was coming from. Choirs of angels seemed an unlikely choice for a malt shop jukebox and, come to think of it, he didn't remember having seen a jukebox. Instead of the shapeless dress she'd been wearing on Wednesday night she was dressed simply in faded jeans, a light pale blue cotton print top gathered at the neck, her hair tied back with a pale blue ribbon matching her top. A small, plain gold crucifix hung from a fine chain around her neck. If Jake could have spoken at that moment he would have said "Take me, Lord, I'm ready to go."

He slid in beside her as Johanssen turned to Hilda and said "Close yer eyes and hold out yer hand, sweetie pie." Hilda giggled and obeyed. Johanssen pulled a Snickers bar out of his pocket and put it in her open hand. She opened her eyes, looked down and grinned at him. "Why, Willy Johanssen, you sure know the way to a girl's heart."

He looked at her and lowered his voice about two octaves, doing a fair Elvis impersonation. "There's plenty more where that came from, sugar." The other three burst out laughing.

Jake turned back to Amanda, all the ease of the other night forgotten. "It's see to good you." he breathed. "I mean good to see you. Dammit!"

"Haw haw, nice one Jakey!" laughed Johanssen. "Now where's yer manners, boy!" He turned between Hilda and Amanda. "What would you two lovely ladies like? I hear tell the banana splits here are real good!"

Hilda slid a glass bowl with a spoon and remnants of ice cream in front of him. "Not bad at all." Then, in response to the unasked question, "We've been waiting half an hour for you boys. A girl could starve."

Willy looked at the bowl, then at Hilda. "Starve? Sugar, forgive me f' neglectin' your needs so bad. What was I thinkin'? So what'll it be ladies?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Jake, pleased that Willy had taken the initiative. "What'll it be?"

"I'm not so hungry after that banana split," said Hilda. "I'll just have a double chocolate double malted and a slice of blueberry pie with extra whipped cream."

"Why sure, honeybunch. And you, pretty lady?"

Amanda stifled a laugh. "Just a cherry Coke for me."

Jake grinned. "Cherry Coke? Hey! I love cherry too! Cherry's my favourite!"

A burst of laughter from the next booth drew Jake's attention to the fact that Junior, Sandra, and her two friends were sitting behind them.

"Ooh - please take my cherry, Jakey," squeaked Junior, falsetto. Then, in a fair imitation of Jake, "Sure! I just loooove cherry!" Another peal of laughter rose from the booth.

Jake felt a wave of fury pass over him. Bullying him was one thing, but he wasn't going to stand by and listen to that bastard insulting Amanda. His face turned red with anger and he started to slide out of the booth when he felt Johanssen's hand clutch his arm. He turned to see Johanssen shaking his head.

"Don't get into the cage with the monkeys, Jake." he murmured. "It ain't worth it. If you think you're embarrassed now, just try goin' for Junior."

Amanda reached out and gently took his other arm. "Please Jake, it's alright. They're bad enough already. They'll make life even worse if we react. Maybe we could move to another booth."

Jake sat back down, his face still red, logic slowly getting the better of anger. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Come on - there's an empty booth down there," nodding to the far end of the room. They rose, and as they walked away one of the girls called after them "Make love not war, eh Amanda?" and laughter rose again.

Jake started to turn, but immediately Amanda reached for his hand and squeezed. Whether it was intentional or not it had the desired effect. All the anger drained from Jake and an involuntary sigh escaped as his body relaxed. Jake and Johanssen stopped to order while the girls slid into the booth.

"They're bad news, Jakey. The last thing either of us needs right now is Junior - and that means his old man - gunnin' for us. A run-in with Junior and we wouldn't get out on weekends for the rest of the year, an' I dunno about you, but I want all the weekends I can get if y' take my meanin'."

"Oh - jeez - yeah. Thanks Johanssen. Damn - it's so hard though, listening to that moron make fun of Amanda. I tell you Willy - if I ever get the chance..."

"You'll shit in his shoes?"

Jake grinned. Their order arrived and they took it back to the booth. Johanssen unloaded the tray, took it back to the counter then eased in next to Hilda, watching with pleasure as she attacked the blueberry pie like a lioness tearing apart a particularly ripe wildebeest. "Whooee! I'm sure glad you had that banana split first, Honey, else I might o' had to move afore you started in on me!" Hilda shook with mirth and dug him the ribs. 

Willy's and Hilda's antics covered Jake and Amanda's awkwardness, but under the table their hands met and, slowly, they moved closer together until their bodies touched, unfamiliar sensations flowing and mingling. 

Amanda turned to face Jake. "Maybe we could go for a walk?"

"A walk? Uh, sure, good idea!" Jake noticed that Willy had slipped his arm around Hilda's shoulders. "Er, would you mind...?"

"Mind?" said Willy, grinning. "Oh no. We wouldn't mind at all, would we sweetie pie?" Hilda shook her head. "See you back at the bus stop Jakey. Four o'clock sharp."

Jake grinned at Willy. "I'll be there."

Hilda looked down at the two untouched cherry Cokes. "You two ain't gonna want those now, are you?"

"Be our guests," smiled Jake, and they walked out, hand in hand. If there were any taunts from Junior's booth neither of them noticed.

* * *

They walked slowly, talking, oblivious of their surroundings. Amanda led them to a deserted park that sloped gently down to the river, grey under leafless trees anticipating spring, and a January sun low in the south that wouldn't give up its warmth for weeks to come. They sat on a park bench overlooking last season's reeds, dead and brown, while under the water's edge living buds slept dreaming vegetable dreams of light and warmth. Though it was only two o'clock the air was getting crisp. Amanda shivered. Jake put his arm around her shoulder for warmth and she hesitantly slipped an arm around his waist under his jacket. They turned to face each other, explorers, lost in silent and uncharted depths of brown and hazel-green.

* * *

The January days passed, and two outcasts found belonging and strength in each other. Their friendship was a barb that their tormentors prodded them with mercilessly, but none of it seemed to work any more. Instead of getting upset, or angry, or running off in tears, Amanda and Jake just let it all wash over them, secure in the completeness they found in each other. Weeks were only interludes between weekends but, freed from the bonds of their otherness, their weeks improved and so did their school performance. Instead of dwelling on the unfairness and resentment that consumed him, Jake was able to concentrate on the task at hand. His grades picked up and, while it was clear that his heart was never going to be in military training, he didn't screw up quite as predictably. 

Amanda had always been a good student, but Sister Assumpta saw a freshness and inspiration in her art work that, in other circumstances, she might have called passion.

They met in the malt shop every Saturday, shared a cherry Coke while Willy and Hilda cemented their relationship over banana splits, blueberry pies, Three Musketeers and Snickers bars. Amanda felt, at first, that their relationships seemed so different - Willy and Hilda were always laughing and joking while she and Jake had something that seemed more intense, a bond based on shared experience of of mutual difference and social rejection. But then she realised that the differences were probably superficial and, in a way, she envied Willy and Hilda the lightness of their friendship. But when the intensity was upon them she wouldn't have traded places with anyone.

They'd walk to the park or, more often, stroll in the opposite direction out of town past small farms with red barns and empty winter fields. Sometimes they'd stop to talk to a palomino pony that would stroll across to the fence when it saw them coming, hoping for an apple or a sugar cube or perhaps just some company. Sometimes when they felt alone they kissed, the pressure of their bodies a physical counterpart to a more subtle closeness. Before they dared to say the word to each other, each of them recognised love for what it was.

The season changed.

* * *

Tuesday dawned like any other, but it was a day Jake had been dreading for a week. The obstacle course. Mostly it was just a pain the butt. Jake knew that he'd never been particularly athletic or even well co-ordinated, but he could cope with leaping through the tires carrying his rifle, or crawling under the barbed wire, or walking across logs across the muddy ditch. But there was one part of the course that filled him with dread. The ropes. Ever since Mad Dog had dangled him over the edge of the bridge by his ankles when he was five he'd been terrified of heights. The thought of climbing the fifteen foot rope made him break out in a cold sweat.

Morning classes usually dragged on forever but today they flew, conspiring to bring on the afternoon. Lunch was over almost as soon as it began and afternoon classes made the wink of an eye seem like an eternity. What made the whole thing worse was that everyone else looked forward to the obstacle course and had been chattering about it all day. When the last class ended they had twenty minutes to get changed and down to the course carrying replica rifles, weighted to simulate the real thing.

They lined up in ranks of five. Ellenbogen blew his whistle and the first rank ran forward into the tire maze, high-stepping through thirty yards of randomly placed tires, a task that needed concentration and agility to avoid falling and, potentially, snapping an ankle. When the first group cleared the maze and dived forward to crawl under the barbed wire, the second group started. The barbed wire was set just high enough for them to crawl on their bellies, heads down, for another thirty yards. Looking up to see how far in you were always result in at least a painful scratch on the head and the weight of the replica rifles made the crawl a difficult and muscle-straining exercise. After that a muddy ditch had to be negotiated by walking across a single strand of rope with two ropes on either side as handrails. The first time it looked easy, but the slightest misstep would start the bottom rope swaying and that would almost always lead to a dunking. It was rumoured that the ditch had been the site of the original Academy latrines and, though the staff never confirmed it if asked, they never denied it either. Finally, five fifteen-foot high climbing ropes dangled over a ditch also filled with the same muddy water. The idea was to leap from the edge of the ditch, grab the rope and climb to the top, then climb down and swing across to the other side.

Jake stared at the ropes at the far end of the course trying to force himself to relax. Climbing up was tolerable - he could stare at the top without looking down. But once he was there it was impossible to stop the acrophobia from hitting, impossible to shut out the vision of the river under the bridge...the turbid yellow-brown water rushing by thirty feet below...a five-year-old's imagination...falling...hitting the water head first...the current...impossibly strong...dragging him down...sinking...drowning...

Phweep

...

Phweeeeeeep

...

MORGENDORFFER!

Jake came to, seeing the other four already halfway through the tire maze, and he dashed forward with the laughter of his platoon in his ears. Through the tires, tripping once, getting up, diving under the barbed wire, struggling to catch up, across the rope bridge and almost falling but just recovering, then the rope. He leaped forward and grabbed it, swinging a foot above the water. Staring up, hand over hand, ankles grasping the rope as he went, higher, finally...the river...rushing by...his muscles clenched, frozen...the current...a five-year-old's imagination...

The rest of the platoon rearranged themselves into ranks of four. When the last group had gone through Ellenbogen stood staring at Jake dangling from the rope, his eyes shut tight. "Well, Morgendorffer, the other cadets are gonna turn in - seems they're all tuckered out from laughing at your cowardice. Guess I'll have to leave you here for the night. By the way your father called and I told him all about it. He says don't bother coming home for easter."

Ellenbogen walked off, ignoring the voice straining with fear behind him, saying "Help me".

As the stars came out the pain of his cramped fingers and arms - and the pain of his situation - became too much to bear. Beyond the bridge and the muddy river, beyond the fear and the self-loathing and the anger and the hatred that typified his life there was a glimmer, a pinpoint of light in the dark.

He painfully inched his way down the rope, his muscles knotting in protest, and started swinging, kicking his legs out to amplify the movement and, at just the right instant, let go and landed on the other side of the ditch. He stood, panting, then made his way to and over the wall and down the road towards town.

Gathering clouds scudded across the sky.

* * *

Jake arrived at Saint Agnes's in time to see the lights in the cells go out. He waited in the shadows for ten minutes until clouds obscured the moon and quietly crept up to the second window on the left, his heart pounding, and he rapped with what he hoped was just enough force for Amanda to hear, but not enough to rouse anyone else. Nothing. He tried again, three slow taps. The curtain parted and Amanda looked out into the night to find Jake's face staring at her. He was terrified that she was going to shriek, but her fright at seeing a face at the window was averted by instant recognition. She silently opened the window and hissed "What the hell are you doing here?" She looked around, her eyes wild. "Do you know what kind of trouble we'd be in if..." She looked at his face and her anger melted away. "I guess you do. What's wrong?" She glanced left and right.

Jake realised that simply seeing her was enough. She looked so beautiful that he was lost for words, her hair untidy, her left hand clutching the collar of her winter nightdress. All the urgency and the hurt had disappeared, and he felt like a fool. "I...I just wanted...I just wanted to see you." He hung his head, ashamed that he'd taken such a risk, and worse, made her take one too. "I'll go. I'm sorry."

She looked down at him, silent for a few seconds, then whispered "Wait there." She closed the curtains. A minute later they opened again. Slowly she lifted the window all the way up and swung a leg out, followed by the other. He lifted her down. She'd pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers without socks, and put a coat on over her nightdress. "Close the window," she whispered. "Not all the way - leave it open a little so that I can get back in."

They looked round to make sure there was no-one about. Clouds still covered the moon and there were no lights on outside. She grabbed his hand and led him through the darkest areas, crouching, around the front of the gym and into the street, turning two streets down into the road the led out of town, walking a couple of blocks to where the houses started to thin until she hissed, quietly, "What the hell is this all about Jake Morgendorffer? You know this could get me expelled! Do you have any idea how stupid this is?"

Jake was already on the point of panic at the stupidity of what he'd done and words, once again, failed him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish blowing bubbles.

She stopped, turned, and looked at him. "What happened Jake? Why? What made you do it?"

They walked on and he described his humiliation at dangling at the top of the rope, his fellow cadets laughing at his fear while Ellenbogen chuckled, and how, as he hung petrified, his muscles cramped and aching as the sun set and the moon rose in the east, it was his decision to find her that had given him the courage to climb down. He told her about how Mad Dog had dangled him over the side of the bridge, screaming in terror until he couldn't scream any more, how his father had given up and pulled him back, white and trembling, disgusted at the five-year-old's cowardice, and made Jake walk home alone along unfamiliar streets. Then, how, at the sight of her at the window, all of it had gone, leaving him with nothing but knowledge of his own stupidity and recklessness.

As he turned to suggest they go back the heavens opened. Fat raindrops plopped onto the road around them. Amanda pulled her coat up over her head and they ran down the road towards the only cover that they knew the now-familiar road offered - the barn where the palomino pony lived, half a mile in front of them. Soaked, Jake held the wires of the fence open for Amanda, who'd given up trying to stay dry, to climb through, and he followed her in through the barn doors which were mercifully open a crack. Inside it was pitch black and they stood, dripping, cold and silent, while the downpour lashed the barn, trickling through cracks in the roof.

A snort made Amanda jump and a squeak burst from her mouth when she realised it was the pony in its stall, and they both laughed nervously. "Sorry fella," said Jake quietly. "No apple tonight."

"Jake, I'm freezing," Amanda shuddered, her teeth chattering.

"There must be something we can wrap around ourselves, maybe some blankets for the horse or something. Hold on. I'll see what I can find."

She stood there, shivering, while Jake felt his way along the wall, trying to hold the lightening-bright image in his mind and being reminded, every time he cracked his shin on something, how unreliable memory can be. Finally he felt his way to the stall and felt the rails then, seconds later, the warm, moist breath of the pony sniffing him in the hope that he'd been teasing about the apple. Jake stroked the pony's nose and whispered "Have you got a blanket, boy? Would you mind if we borrowed it, just until we get warm?" The pony snorted again and Jake smiled through the darkness, feeling along the rails. "Bingo!" he said as his hand touched a rough woollen blanket thrown over the rail.

"What have you found?" came Amanda's voice out of the blackness.

"A blanket. Can you make your way over here? There are some hay bales that we can sit on. Be careful, there's a lot of stuff on the floor."

"I'm coming."

Jake heard her shuffling along, completely invisible in the blackness, and eventually felt her hand touch his head as it probed the way ahead. He instinctively reached out to guide her and felt...

"What the...?"

She sounded annoyed. "You weren't going to wrap us up in the blanket in our wet clothes were you? Great idea, Jake! Why not just hold the blanket out in the rain for a while? Get out of yours too - we'll hang them over the rail so that we can find them again." He heard the sound a zipper.

"But..."

"Your choice, Jake, modesty or pneumonia. It's not as if we can see anything."

"But..."

She lifted the blanket off the rail. "OK. Stay wet. You're not getting under this in those wet clothes though." She felt around behind her and found the hay bale and sat down. "Arggh!" she exclaimed, jumping up again.

"What happened? Are you okay?" 

"Have you ever sat on a hay bale without any clothes on?"

He grinned. "Oh."

He gingerly took off his wet things and draped them over the rail. "Okay. Where are you?"

She reached out a hand and touched his. "Oh God, you're freezing." She spread the blanket over the bale and guided him to sit beside her, then she pulled the blanket up around them. As it tightened, their arms touched. "Eeww. Cold! Wet!"

He jerked away from her. "Sorry. Wow! You're warm."

She gently put an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

* * *

Jake woke an indeterminate time later. The storm had passed and the full moon shone through the cracks in the roof and reflected through the window.

Amanda was breathing deeply and slowly, her head on his shoulder, one leg across his and her arm across his chest. In the moonlight he could see her face, every detail clear but soft in the diffuse light. A few whisps of hair fell across her face and his eyes traced the line of her cheekbones back to the pale curve of her neck, soft down visible just below her hairline. The blanket had fallen off her shoulder and he slowly pulled it up, trying not to wake her. She stirred and pulled herself closer to him and, involuntarily, he hugged back. She opened her eyes and looked at him, the faintest of smiles playing across her lips. "What time is it?"

He brought his arm out from beneath the blanket and stared hard at the luminous hands of his watch. "Quarter past twelve."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's day, sweet Jake."

He drowned in a flood of emotion, his eyes brimming.

She drew back a little to bring him into focus. "Jake? Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." He took a deep, ragged breath. "I'm alright for the first time in my life." He traced the line of her lips with his finger and she gently kissed it. "You're like...like all the beautiful things that have ever been, come together in one place, in one person. I can't believe that you've happened to me."

She snuggled into him again.

"None of it matters now. Not Ellenbogen, not Mad Dog. None of it." He looked over at her eyes. "Amanda?"

"Yes."

"I love you."

She lifted herself onto one elbow and looked down into his eyes, then slowly brought her lips down to his.

* * *

"We'd better go. What time is it now?"

He peered at the watch dial again. "Two thirty."

"I hate the thought of getting back into those wet clothes." She sat up reluctantly. 

Jake sighed. "It's going to be colder than it was earlier. If you run you can be back in twenty minutes."

Her breath steamed in the cold air. "Oh God. When I get out from under I'm going to have to put my clothes on and run or I'll freeze. You'll have to do the same thing." She lay back down, pulled the blanket over her and snuggled up to him one last time. 

After a few minutes she reluctantly got up. He stared, speechless, overwhelmed. She muttered as she pulled on the wet clothes, then turned to him before she left. "Come on, Jake. You've got farther to go than I have. Get up."

He did, and she stared, as he had. He stood still as she slowly approached and leaned forward, avoiding getting him wet, and kissed him. "Saturday?"

"Saturday."

She turned and was gone. He heard her footsteps as she ran off down the road. Her presence faded and Jake felt himself fading with it, as if he was becoming insubstantial. He wanted her back desperately. He wanted to lie under the blanket with her forever - thoughts of Buxton Ridge, Corporal Ellenbogen, Junior, and Mad Dog banished for eternity by the warmth of her soft body. "Amanda..."

The pony neighed, bringing Jake back to reality. He shivered, and reluctantly pulled on his clothes, the wet, clammy fabric clinging to his skin. He threw the blanket back over the rail, stroked the pony's nose, and left, climbing through the fence and out onto the road, looking one last time in the direction of town, knowing she was gone but hoping...

The moon shone brilliantly, washing out all but the brightest stars and lighting the road and the landscape in frigid detail. He turned and jogged off in the opposite direction to the one he so badly wanted to take, back to purgatory.

* * *

Amanda slowed as she neared the school. The run had left her warmer but breathless and she knew she'd have to be able to hold her breath if she was to get in without being heard. In minutes she was shivering again. The bright moonlight was going to make getting back in much trickier than getting out had been. She crouched low and close to the buildings, taking the long way around the back of the gym, hugging the shadows. The cold was forgotten and her heart beat like a triphammer as she prised the window up, placed her hands on the sill, and sprung from her toes. She leaned forward into the room, her legs dangling as she silently slid onto the floor. Picking herself up she turned round and cautiously peered between the curtains. There was no-one. The room was silent. She breathed again and closed the window.

She threw off her cold wet clothes and rummaged around in the drawer for a dry nightdress. Slipping it over her head she climbed into bed, exhausted, sore and cold, longing for a hot bath.

As sleep crept up on her she was filled with conflicting feelings of guilt and joy, tingling with the memory of him, the feeling of the rough blanket against her skin, the earthy smells of horse and last summer's hay, his gentle, nervous touch, _You're like...like all the beautiful things that have ever been, come together in one place, in one person. I can't believe that you've happened to me._ She fell asleep to the sound of his voice saying "I love you."

* * *

Jake ran until he was out of breath, then slowed to a walk. But soon the cold crept in and he picked up the pace, eventually finding a stride that he could maintain and that kept him tolerably warm.

It took more than an hour to get back to Buxton Ridge and, like Amanda, he slowed to catch his breath and think. At some point in the run he'd dried off. How to get in? The front gate was easy, but he'd have to cross an expanse of playing field and driveway to get to the dorm. He could cut around to the eastern wall then skirt the parade ground. That might be best - he could get straight up to the dorm that way without having to pass any of the staff quarters. He wondered whether anyone had missed the fact that he hadn't come in last night. If he came in now someone was sure to hear him or see him. Once again he envied Amanda her own room.

The more he thought about it the more it seemed that the best idea was to tough it out. Just walk in and say that he'd spent the night up the rope, or wandering the grounds. They couldn't punish him for that could they? After leaving him up there? Could they? Well yes, they could. Those bastards could do any damn thing they wanted to - and they generally wanted to where he was concerned. But it was the best idea he could think of. He walked around to the eastern wall. The moon was still bright but it was lower in the west now and there was shrubbery along the wall so, with any luck, he should be able to get in without any problems. He chose a spot where the bushes were high enough to hide him, slipped over the low wall and walked along, crouching, until he could use the shadow of the dormitory to cover him. He made his way quietly to the door - no sense in waking anyone if he could avoid it and, besides, he was dog tired. If he could catch a couple of hours sleep before reveille he might be able to make it through the day.

The door opened silently and he tiptoed in, closing it behind him. The floor creaked a couple of times but no-one stirred. He got to his bunk without incident and reached up to get his pyjamas. Changing quietly wasn't too hard since his clothes were dry and, finally ready, he threw his clothes onto the top bunk and started to climb the ladder. At the second rung his foot slipped and he fell with all the grace and subtlety of an elephant with diarrhoea.

The dorm burst into life, yells of "What was that?", "Who...", "Arrgg", "Morgendorffer?", "Hey - Morgendorffer's back!", "Where the hell have you been Morgendorffer?". The light went on and cadets surrounded him. He stared up into a sea of angry faces. 

He felt an arm behind his back helping him to sit up. "Stand back y' idiots - can't y' see he's hurt?" Jake looked up into Willy's eyes and saw the faintest of winks. It took him a second to realise what was going on, but he caught on.

"Oh - I mean ooooohhhh, my leeeeg!" He writhed, clutching his leg and wincing in pain.

"I don't think it's broke. Mason - help me get him onto the bed!"

A cadet bent down and he and Willy lifted Jake onto the bottom bunk. The others muttered and swore, but slowly went back to bed. "You'd better have a good excuse Morgendorffer!" more than one of them commented. The lights went out.

As the sounds of snoring returned, Jake whispered "Thanks Willy. What the hell was that all about?"

"Man, you're in deep shit. Ellenbogen went out after sunset to get you down off'n that rope but you weren't there. He had us out until midnight searchin' the grounds for you. The guys were pissed I can tell ya."

Jake felt sick.

"Where were you, man?"

He sighed, quietly. "In a barn."

"In a what?"

"In a barn. With Amanda."

"A barn? With Amanda? What in tarnation...?"

"Later Willy." He lay back and sighed again. "I'm screwed. Let me get an hour's sleep. And thanks."

Willy grinned. "Okay, Jakey. I'll get into the top bunk. But man, I'm lookin' forward t' hearin' _this_ story!"

Jake was asleep before Willy had climbed the ladder.

* * *

Though he'd slept for an hour and a half it felt to Jake as if his eyes had only just closed when reveille sounded and it all came back. He was going to have to face Ellenbogen. He trudged to the showers, undressed and walked into a stall, bracing himself as he turned on the cold water first then added hot water until the temperature stabilised. As he showered he wondered whether it might be better to face the ire of his squad than Ellenbogen, but then he realised that his squad would only beat him to a bloody pulp. Ellenbogen, on the other hand, could really hurt him. He drifted off as the warm water splashed over him and the vivid image of Amanda getting up from under the blanket in the moonlit barn blazed in his mind's eye. How was it possible that, all the time his life had been a non-stop disaster movie, the universe had held something as beautiful as her?

"MORGENDORFFER!"

Jake's eyes snapped open painfully, revealing the sneering visage of Corporal Andrew Jackson Macarthur Ellenbogen glaring at him. Even in his befuddled state the irony of the scene change didn't escape him. Before he could react, Ellenbogen snapped "My office. Ten minutes." and walked out. Jake quickly rinsed off, dried and dressed, wondering all the while what difference it would make if he was late. Could things be any worse?

He tied his tie as he walked into the administration block and up to Ellenbogen's office. Bracing himself, he knocked.

"Come in Morgendorffer" came the feared voice, low and quiet, like a cheetah crouching to spring. He opened the door and walked in.

Corporal Ellenbogen watched him enter as if he was trying to decide which limb to remove first. He gestured to Jake to sit in one of the bentwood chairs that faced his desk. Jake sat, waiting. Ellenbogen continued to stare silently, his expression blank, as if he was looking at a particularly interesting beetle, or a side of beef he was considering serving to his dobermans. Finally he spoke.

"You surprise me, Morgendorffer."

"S...sir?" Jake stammered.

"I suppose you know that I went out to get you down from the rope."

"Y...yes sir."

"But you weren't up the rope, were you Morgendorffer?"

"No sir."

"Got the whole dormitory out looking for you, Morgendorffer. Searched the grounds, searched the buildings."

"Yes sir."

"But you weren't in the grounds, were you Morgendorffer?"

"N...no sir."

"Where were you?"

"I...I...went for a...walk, sir."

"You went for a walk."

"Yes sir."

"Mmmm."

"Sir?"

"I mean it's not your style, is it Morgendorffer? Your style's more the foetal curl, whimpering, crying for Mommy." He stood up, walked round to the front of the desk and sat, looking down at Jake. "But this time, you got down all by yourself and you went for a walk. Where did you go, Morgendorffer? Into town?"

Jake couldn't work out where this was leading. "No sir. I went the other way sir."

"Mm. Out of town eh?"

"Yes sir."

Ellenbogen waited. "It rained."

"Yes sir."

"Get wet, did you?"

"Yes sir." Jake shuddered inside. _He knows_.

"What did you do?"

"I, um, sheltered under some trees."

"Trees?"

"Yes sir. Er - oaks I think, sir."

"Must have been cold."

"Yes sir. I...um...I ran for a while after the rain stopped. To get warm. And dry."

Ellenbogen stared at him. Jake was sure that any moment he was going to pull out a large manila envelope, open it, and show Jake the photographs. That was how it happened, wasn't it? _What's it worth to you Morgendorffer?_ he'd say. _How much to stop me from showing these to your parents? How much to stop me showing them to HER parents?_

"It's an improvement, Morgendorffer."

"Er, an improvement, sir?"

"Mmm. There might be hope for you yet. I've seen signs of an improvement in you over the last few weeks."

Jake breathed again. "Um, thank you sir."

Ellenbogen stood again and walked around to face Jake.

"I want you to work on those ropes, Morgendorffer. I want to see you spend your spare time on them. Climb up a couple of feet and back down. Get up a foot higher the next day. Take it in stages. Get over that acrophobia."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." _Damn. I'm going to get out of it!_

"Don't think you're getting off lightly, Morgendorffer. If you ever do something like this again I'll personally put my hand down your throat and rip your lungs out. Understood?"

"Yes sir! I won't sir!"

"I want to see you at least half way up that rope in two weeks time. Is that understood too?"

"Yes sir. Thank you sir!"

"Alright Morgendorffer. Dismissed."

Jake sprung to attention and saluted, then turned on his heel and walked toward the door. As his hand touched the knob, Ellenbogen spoke again.

"Oh, and Morgendorffer..."

Jake turned. "Sir?"

"Standard punishment for being AWOL - loss of weekend privileges for the rest of the semester. Now get to class."

* * *

Amanda found it increasingly difficult to pay attention to Hilda. By Friday she'd admitted to herself that she was living for Saturday and, though it had seemed like a good idea at the time, she was beginning to regret that she'd talked Hilda into getting to Gilbert's an hour early just in case. Apart from anything else it had cost her a large slice of coconut cream pie.

Willy walked in without Jake. His face wasn't its usual grinning self and, as he slid into the seat beside Hilda Amanda knew there was something wrong. Willy kissed Hilda on the cheek and Amanda felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Willy turned to see her staring at him, her face pale.

"Uh, Amanda, Jake ain't gonna make it today." he said quietly.

She felt like throwing up. The demons of guilt had been working overtime since Wednesday. It happened, didn't it? They were all sweetness and light until they got what they wanted and then...but not Jake...not Jake...please no not Jake. It wasn't like that. He said he loved her. And she trusted him. But she couldn't stop the feeling. _GodnoGodnoGodno..._

Willy reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope. With trembling hands she tore it open.

_Dear Amanda,_

_I've been grounded. Willy will tell you the story. _

_I'm not very good at expressing myself. I wish I could write poetry because I feel like writing poetry when I think about you. I can't even quote someone else's poetry but I think I'll start reading some so that I can one day_

_The only words I can give you are these - I love you. I'm wish I could be there to say them to you. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you._

Amanda pulled a handkerchief out her handbag and dabbed her eyes. _Thank you God. _She read on.

_I've lost weekend privileges for the rest of the semester. But I'll get out. We'll arrange a time through Willy. I can't be away from you for that long._

_I hope everything's alright with you. Send a note back with Willy if you like._

_I love you more than life Amanda._

_Jake._

She folded the letter and put it back in her envelope, her eyes wet with relief and disappointment.

"He was real upset, Amanda." said Willy quietly. "I thought he was gonna cry on me there fer a minute. He...likes ya a real lot."

"What happened, Willy?"

He told her the story, just as Jake had told it to him. "That Ellenbogen, man, he's been a real ba...been real mean t' Jakey, but Jake said this time he wasn't mean, it was just like, you know, the same as if he'd had t' write some lines on the blackboard or somethin'. Ellenbogen didn't know what it meant. But Jake's been real down. He ain't gonna wait, Amanda. He's gonna make a date 'n time and find a way to meet ya."

Amanda's mind shifted into high gear. "What if he got caught again, Willy? What would happen?"

Willy thought for a moment. "Can't rightly say. I mean up until now Ellenbogen would've expelled him fer sure. Jake said the he was...sorta...friendly. But I dunno, I wouldn't trust that basta...guy as far as I could throw him."

"But he could get expelled, couldn't he?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he could." Then understanding dawned. "Oh, yeah - I see what you mean. Damn."

"Will you take a note back to him?"

He looked at her with the most serious expression she'd ever seen him wear, a compassion behind it that wasn't usually visible behind his clowning. He reached out to her and took her hand. "Pretty lady, I'd take _you_ back to him if I could."

She smiled at him through wet eyes, then reached into her handbag for a notepad and pen, and she wrote. When she was finished she folded the letter and handed it to him. "I haven't...got an envelope."

"I have." he smiled, placing the folded note in his shirt pocket and patting it. "It's as safe in here as it'd be in Fort Knox. Ain't no-one gonna read it except Jake."

Amanda smiled back and slid out of the seat. "Thanks Willy. I'll leave you two to yourselves. Um, will you give him something else for me?"

"Why sure - I'd be glad to." he grinned.

She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Willy turned bright red. "Uh, Amanda, I'm sorry - I ain't gonna kiss him for NO one!"

Hilda squealed with delight and elbowed Willy in the ribs.

* * *

Jake was lying on his bunk with his eyes closed when Willy arrived back at the dorm. He assumed that Jake was asleep and he pondered whether to wake him, then cursed himself for a fool for even thinking about it. He put a hand on Jake's shoulder and shook. "Jake?"

Jake sat bolt upright. "Was she there?"

"Of course she was there! Damn Jakey - she was as cut up about it as you are. She cried when I told her what had happened."

"She cried? Oh Jesus, Willy." Jake's stomach knotted.

"Yeah. She was real upset, Jake. But damn - she's smart you know. She's real smart."

"What do you mean?"

Willy took the folded note out of his pocket. "I don't know what she said in here, Jakey - I'm sure it's real private, but I bet I know one thing she said."

Jake grabbed the note from Willy's hand and read it.

_Sweet Jake,_

Sweet Jake! "Happy Valentine's Day sweet Jake" she'd said. He'd been happier at that moment than he'd ever been in his life. 

_Willy told me what happened. I wanted so badly to see you._

_But please Jake, please don't risk getting caught again. Willy said that you could get expelled. Even if we don't see each other until after Summer vacation, we can write, and Willy can take messages between us. But if you got expelled I don't know what would happen. It'd be harder than this though, I'm sure about that. Please think about it._

_It's going to be hard anyway. I think about Tuesday night all the time. I'll write to you. I'll write every day and on Saturday I'll give Willy my letter to take to you. Will you do the same thing? It's not like being together, but it's not like being apart either._

_Please don't take the risk Jake. I love you._

_Amanda_

Jake thought that his heart would jump out of his body. He looked at Willy. "She loves me?"

Willy grinned. "Okay Jakey - two things. She said that she didn't want ya t' risk gettin' out again, didn't she?"

"Yeah. But Jesus Willy - I can't just rot in here for three months without seeing her!"

"Yes y' can, Jake." He was serious again. "She's right. If you get caught again, what's Ellenbogen gonna do to ya? You ain't gonna stay in his good books f'rever! And then what'd happen Jakey? What if y' got expelled? What kind o' chance would you have then? Y'd get sent off t' some other school somewheres next year and that'd be it, man. That'd be it. She's right Jake. She's smart an' she's right and you know it."

Jake stared at the note. She'd held it in her hand. Written her thoughts on it. "Yeah." he scowled. "Yeah - she's right."

The week passed slowly. Every night Jake wrote his thoughts to her and every night he read her letter. _I love you._ _I think about Tuesday night all the time. I love you._ He could have subsisted on nothing but her words.

On Saturday Willy came back with a six page letter. She'd done the same thing that he had, writing her thoughts, telling him the little details of her days. She'd been right. It wasn't like being together, but there was there was a different and satisfying intimacy in it. Nothing made him feel so good, though, as when she wrote, simply, "I love you."

As the weeks passed they got better at it. Amanda told him that Sandra and her friends didn't bother her any more - they tried, but she didn't care, so she ignored them. Jake told her that Junior was still as obnoxious as ever, but he just didn't care. Junior and his old man had come to seem less menacing - more patetic. What sort of sorry life would you have to lead, he wondered, to make you need to bring other people down to make yourself feel good? What sort of contempt for women would you have to have to talk about them - to treat them - the way they did? The way that Mad Dog did. And when he thought like that, Mad Dog didn't seem so menacing any more either. "If I ever have kids," he wrote, "I'm damned if I'll treat them the way he treated me."

Amanda wrote about how embarrassed she'd been when Sister Assumpta had talked about the "delicacy of her work" and the "subtlety she was developing with glazes and firing techniques" in front of the class. He could hear the excitement in her voice when she told him that she was entering some work in an art show, how Sister Assumpta felt that she had a good chance of a prize.

Jake spent Easter at school and used it as an opportunity to do what he said he'd do. He spent a lot of it in the library, trying to pick his way through Keats, Wordsworth, Shelley, Byron and the other romantic poets, appreciating for the first time how words could capture the way people felt.

They wrote about their childhoods. They came to know each other and it never got old, or boring, or uninteresting. Whatever they wrote, "I love you" was always there at the end. And the months passed. Amanda's plate won third prize in the art show, the first time that a non-professional had ever received a prize. Jake shared her excitement and pleasure. She'd given the plate to Sister Assumpta to thank her.

But there was one thing that Amanda never mentioned.

On May 24th the senior classes graduated. In the Junior Year Awards Amanda came top of her year in Art and her plate and the prize it won was displayed as an example of the work that Saint Agnes's students produced. Jake didn't win any prizes, but Summer Vacation was prize enough. It was a milestone that signalled the start of the countdown to next year and the return of Saturday privileges. They'd survived three months. They'd survive another three. They'd write every week, just as they'd done at school.

He never got another letter from her.

~o0o~

To be continued.


	2. Homecomings and Honeysuckle

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 2: Homecomings and Honeysuckle 

* * *

Three days into the summer vacation. Each day Amanda had walked for hours, desperately needing the time to be alone, but needing desperately to not be alone. She'd always loved Gustave Dore's illustrations for The Inferno but she'd never thought too much about what Dante had been talking about. Now she was beginning to understand Dante's genius. "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here". Was there any more perfect way to describe the most terrible of all hells - to have no hope?

But she did have hope. She trusted Jake. He said he loved her and she knew that he did. He'd reply to her letter. Any day now. _Please God, let it be today_.

* * *

_Dear Jake,_

_I've been trying so hard to work out the best way to tell you this._

* * *

Slowly she turned and walked back towards town, past a fence draped with honeysuckle that she'd passed every day for the last three days. But this time something about the sweet, almost cloying scent triggered a memory. Summer, warm, honeysuckle-sweet, and she was six again.

_"Amanda - did you make this?"_

_"Yes Daddy."_

_Warm summer sun. Was Daddy angry?_

_"Elaine - look a this!"_

_"My God! Amanda - that's beautiful!"_

_"It's a horsey Mommy."_

_The scent of honeysuckle..._

* * *

Why did it have to be so hard? That day three months ago in Gilbert's Malt Shop came back in vivid detail.

_"Uh, Amanda, Jake ain't gonna make it today."_

She remembered that as she'd walked out of the malt shop her smile had faded like the light from a guttering candle. Three months. Then another three months. She'd absentmindedly put a hand over her stomach as if she could stop the sinking sensation and she'd propped, thoughtless of the people stepping around her, staring. Six months. The sun was high in a cloudless sky but all she'd seen was a midnight road, wet with rain. People had passed in front of her but she'd only seen one face. She'd turned and walked in a daze back towards school. Seventeen years of solitude and suddenly she'd felt terrified of losing something that, until a week before, she hadn't even known she'd wanted. 

The Summer sun was warm on her back, bleaching her hair a paler shade of gold as it had every summer since she'd been tiny. Her Dad had called her "Goldilocks" as long as she could remember, but she'd always imagined Goldilocks with curly hair though. Once she'd asked her Mom if she could have curly hair and be a real Goldilocks, and her Mom had laughed and used her hair rollers to curl it. When Amanda looked in the mirror it seemed as if all her dreams had come true. She'd rushed in, overcome with excitement, to show her Dad

_"Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!"_

_"Elaine - who's this pretty little girl who's come to visit us?" _he'd called.

She'd giggled. _"It's me, Daddy - Amanda!"_

_"Amanda? No! You couldn't be Amanda!"_

_"It's me Daddy! Really!" _

He'd picked her up and sat her on he knee, peering into her face. _"Well let me see now - you sound like Amanda. But you can't be. I'll call Amanda and she'll come - you'll see. Amanda! Amanda! There's a little girl here who says she's you!" _She'd squealed with delight. When the curls had disappeared after her bath that night. She'd howled bitterly. _"They were supposed to last forever Mommy!" _Her mother had comforted her by saying that they could give her curly hair any time she wanted it. Funny - she'd never asked to do it again. 

* * *

Three days before school broke up for summer she'd written that last letter. To his home address. So hard. The hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

_Dear Jake,_

_I've been trying so hard to work out the best way to tell you this._

_This is the fifth time I've written this letter. I've screwed up the last four and thrown them away. _

* * *

Amanda loved her parents. Her father had been so proud of her that he'd taken on another job so that they could save up for art lessons, and then to send her to Saint Agnes's, and so that they could afford to send her to college - providing she got a scholarship. As she got older she started to understand what a sacrifice they'd made. Sometimes she'd hear them talking late at night.

_"She's going to get a good education Elaine. I never had a chance, but she's going to have one."_

He'd left school at 12 to help his father on the farm. Education wasn't important to his father, but he'd grown up wanting any kids of his own to have the opportunities he'd never had. If he'd wanted a son he never showed it, but Amanda knew that they'd wanted more children. She would have loved a brother or a sister. But she never did and she'd never asked why.

* * *

_"Uh, Amanda, Jake ain't gonna make it today."_ Willy's voice echoed in her mind. Three weeks later she'd had her first tingle of suspicion, but she'd ignored it. 

_Dear Jake, _she'd written,

_I've been trying so hard to work out the best way to tell you this._

_This is the fifth time I've written this letter. I've screwed up the last four and thrown them away. The problem is that no matter how I say it it's the same._

_* * *_

When she gotten off the bus from school three days ago her parents had met her, as they always did, smiling, hugging her, happy to have her home. Her Dad had taken her suitcase and carried it home for her. As soon as they'd gotten inside they wanted to see her award and hear all about her time at school. For the first time ever, she had to fake it and she felt dirty. So she'd walked. As long as she was out of the house she could forget the worst of the feeling - the knowledge that she'd betrayed them.

Four weeks after the first sign it had been undeniable, but she'd denied it anyway. Four weeks after that she'd had no choice but to admit it to herself. She'd been able to dismiss the vomiting every morning, but she couldn't dismiss missing her third period in a row. So she'd written him a letter and posted it five days before school broke up for Summer.

_Dear Jake,_

_I've been trying so hard to work out the best way to tell you this._

_This is the fifth time I've written this letter. I've screwed up the last four and thrown them away. The problem is that no matter how I say it it's the same. I'm pregnant._

_I love you Jake. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared._

_Please write to me or call me. Please Jake._

_Amanda_

_* * *_

As her steps led ineluctably home the sinking feeling overwhelmed her. Worse than the morning sickness, worse than the raw knot of fear, worse than her desperate need to see Jake, to be held by him again. She tried to feel the comfort that she'd felt in his arms that night beneath the rough blanket but it was no good, and every step made it worse.

She turned up the path towards the front door. She could have traced every crack in the path with her eyes shut tight, described the flaking paintwork on the porch rail in minute detail, but the most familiar place on earth was alien to her. But she realised that it was just as it always had been. She was the alien.

The key slid into the lock and turned, the same little catch in the lock mechanism that she remembered from the first day that she'd been old enough to have a key.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to see her mother, eyes red-rimmed, and her father standing just inside the door.

"Mom? Da..."

She staggered back into the door as the force of her father's open hand raked across her face. In the seconds that it took for her mind to realise what had happened her body reacted to the shock and her hand leapt to her cheek. He'd never hit her before. Except for a well-deserved smack on the bottom when he'd caught her about to drink a bottle of bleach that she'd found in the laundry room. But this wasn't that kind of smack. The shock dulled the pain, but not completely, and she felt the hot flow of blood to her face. Her mother gasped and her father stepped back, horrified at what he'd done, but shaking with anger.

"Wha...wha..." she stumbled over the words, forcing them past the pain.

Her mother, her hand trembling, passed her a letter which Amanda took, her left hand still clutching her stinging face as she looked down. The colour drained from her face lost with the exception of the handprint burning across her left cheek.

_Mr and Mrs Phillips,_

_Your daughter has written to my son telling him that she's pregnant - by him being the implication. My son assures me he would NEVER have anything to do with a harlot like your daughter. He most certainly will not be tying his bright future to a whore and her bastard. _

The letter dropped from her hand. She felt her knees start to give way and the room start to swim. She couldn't bring her eyes up to look at her parents. She'd never felt this much shame in her life. 

_Jake... oh God Jake..._

Her mind raged, the strength she needed to face her parents conflicting at a primal level with the urgent need to scream in horror and despair. "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."

_Jake..._

**~o0o~**

The bus pulled up at the train station and the cadets, those who weren't being picked up by their parents or the lucky few who were flying home, tumbled out, laughing and talking about their plans for summer. Behind them two stragglers stepped down onto the street and picked up their bags.

"Well, this is it, man. Three months to go."

"Halfway for you, Jakey boy. Just the start fer me."

"You and Hilda are going to write to each other, aren't you?"

"Yeah yeah, but it ain't the same is it?"

"No. But you know, in some ways it's even better. When you write, you have time to think about what you're going to say. You...sort of...get to think about how you really want to say things, how you really feel about them. It's made me think hard about a lot of stuff that I wouldn't have thought about if I didn't have to put it down in words. It's made me understand a lot about myself."

"That's prob'ly okay fer you, Jakey, but I don't write s' good. Never been my thing, if ya know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. But you might surprise yourself, Willy. Just say what you feel. Like...that letter you sent me at Christmas. Man, that was...uh...neat." He blushed, remembering how he'd reacted.

"Thanks Jakey. I'll try. I hope it works out. Fer both of us."

"It will, man. It will. I know it!"

"Yeah. Well...I hope so. An' good luck, Jakey. At least I know my Ma's gonna be glad to see me, not like Mad Dog. I hope it ain't too bad for ya."

"It won't be. That pathetic bastard's going to find that he can't push my buttons like he used to. I can handle him."

"Good for you, Jakey."

"Yeah. See you, Willy."

And they left for their different tracks.

Jake stared out the window for the whole trip but, like Amanda's, his vision was turned inwards and the scenery rolled by without making it past his retinas. Three months and things had only gotten better, not worse. From what Amanda said, the same thing applied to her. They were strong. Nothing could touch them now. Another three months? Only three months. He smiled.

As he expected, there was no-one to meet him at the station so he took the bus downtown and walked the block to his house as the sun sank. He dropped his bag and rang the bell, hearing his mother's familiar steps coming down the hall and the sound of the double locks opening.

"Jakey!" she smiled, opening her arms for him.

He hugged her. "Hi Mom."

She stood back. There was something...different...about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He was a little taller, though he'd just about finished growing. The stubble on his chin was a little darker, but...

"How's my big, strong son? How's school been? Why don't you write to us?"

"I'm fine, Mom. School's been the same nightmare it always was, and I didn't write because I didn't know the address of our relatives in...where was it? Oh yeah...Toronto?"

She blushed. "Oh Jake, that was just your father's little joke. You know him."

"Oh yeah. I know him alright." Jake scowled.

"Well come on then, come in. You're room's just as you left it and I'm making potroast for dinner. I know it's your favourite."

"Thanks Mom." Jake smiled despite himself, picked up his bag and followed her down the hall through the living room where 'Mad Dog' Morgendorffer sat reading the newspaper with a beer in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Well - say hello to your father, Jakey," his mother chirped as they passed.

Jake stopped and turned. "Mad Dog," said Jake in mock friendliness. "Always a pleasure to see you."

Mad Dog looked up over the top of his paper and grunted, scowling as if he'd just smelled something that the dog had left on the carpet. Jake's mother laughed nervously and stepped up their pace through the house to Jake's bedroom. Jake tossed his suitcase on the bed and looked around.

"Jakey? Is anything wrong?"

...

"Jakey?"

"Uh - no Mom. I'm, uh, tired. I think I'll have a rest before dinner. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Dear. You must be tired after your trip. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Thanks Mom." He kissed her on the cheek and she turned to walk out. "Mom?"

"Yes Dear?"

"There hasn't been any mail for me has there?"

"No, Dear."

"Thanks."

She walked out, closing the door behind her. 

Jake looked around the room with a vague sense of disquiet. His model World War II airplanes, the painstaking work of previous summer vacations and lovingly painted, rested on the shelves where they'd sat since he'd glued the last undercarriage wheel in place. His comic books were neatly stacked on the bottom of the bookshelf and above them his books, chronicles of his life in paperback, from Goodnight Moon to Jules Verne. Posters of previous seasons' baseball heroes stared down at him from the walls, their blind eyes gazing backwards to his yesterdays. A kid's room. A room he didn't belong to any more.

* * *

Over the next few days Jake and Mad Dog tolerated each other like the relationship between the US and China, each aware of, but refusing to formally acknowledge, the other's existence. Which suited Jake fine. He spent his first day taking down the baseball posters and making the room a little more liveable, then he strolled into town to the second-hand bookstore where he bought a copy of the collected works of Lord Byron for $1.50. As he walked back a thought struck him - there was more than one use for a book of poetry.

**~o0o~**

"Is it true?"

Amanda's father's voice was shaking. She'd never heard him sound like this.

_Was Daddy angry?_

No. Daddy had never been angry. Until now.

She forced herself to look him in the eyes.

_Jake..._

She nodded, heard her mother's sharp intake of breath.

"Go to your room."

Trembling, she held his eyes while she bent at the knees, body straight, and picked up the note. She backed away, one hand clutching the note and he other pressed against her face, her fingers resting along the lines of his, outlined in hot blood beneath ghostly skin, not turning until she felt her bedroom door behind her.

_Jake..._

She sank down on her bed, her skin drained of colour except where the handprint glowed red on white, but she didn't feel it any more. Her eyes were open but unseeing, her thoughts fleeting and disconnected. Her heart fluttered and her breathing came shallow and fast. The world turned grey, then black.

**~o0o~**

Jake sat at his desk, paper and pen in front of him, but it was too small. His knees brushed against the legs of the table and he moved the chair back to give the sensation of more room.

_Dear Amanda,_

_I got home three days ago. So far it hasn't been too bad. Mad Dog and I keep out of each other's way and Mom's been trying to make me feel at home but it hasn't worked. I feel like I don't belong here any more. It's not that anyone's different but, well, I guess I am. I felt more at home when I was at Buxton Ridge by myself at Christmas. There I was just me, but here, I feel like I can't escape from the kid who used to be me. He's all around me. I took his baseball posters down from the wall, but I couldn't bring myself to toss out his model planes. Remember I told you about them? They were a great way to escape from MD because I could spend hours in here making them._

_I might make another model plane or two this vacation. I think I could still lose myself in that. I don't know. You've made me different. I love you Amanda. _

_Oh, I bought a poetry book. Lord Byron was great. I think he might be my favourite romantic poet. I don't understand a lot of what he wrote about, but some things are obvious. He wrote one poem to a guy who'd written a play that he really didn't like. It's very funny, he really ripped into that guy. I think I'll try to find out what it was about. A lot of his poems are sad, but they're beautiful. _

_There's one about a kid called Harold that I don't really understand though the words are wonderful, and one poem about the death of a dog. I cried when I read it._

_I thought of something interesting to do with the book too, but it's a surprise. It'll be another month or so before I can tell you._

_Please write soon. I miss you._

_Love,_

_Jake_

He folded the letter and slid it into the envelope that he'd addressed and stamped. As he licked and sealed it the door opened and his mother walked in with a tray. Jake hastily put the letter face down on the desk as she put the tray on the table.

"Cookies and milk, Dear!"

"Thanks Mom. That's great."

"What are you writing?"

"Oh, just a letter."

"Why Jakey! You're blushing! You're not writing to a girl are you?"

Jake grinned. "Yeah."

His mother smiled with delight. "Jakey! Tell me all about her! What's her name? Where did you meet her?"

"Her name's Amanda. I met her at the dance, you know, the Christmas dance that Buxton Ridge and Saint Agnes's do?"

"And what's she like?"

He blushed again. "She's, um, about my height, blonde hair. She's pretty. You'd like her."

"I'm sure I would, Jakey! So that's why you asked me if there was any mail!"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I'll mail it for you if you like."

Thanks," he said, handing her the letter. "And, uh, Mom, don't tell Dad about this. Okay?"

She winked at him. "Of course not dear. It'll be our little secret."

**~o0o~**

Amanda's mother watched her daughter's pitiful retreat, saw the hurt and the fear in her eyes, and was cursed by it. She turned to see her husband, trembling, watching Amanda go, then raising the hand that slapped her in front of his eyes as if he didn't recognise it as his own, then sink back into the chair behind him. She was shocked. He looked...old.

"Trent?"

"I hit her," he whispered.

She nodded.

"I've never hit her before."

She walked over and knelt down in front of him, holding his hands. "We have to decide what to do."

"All that work, all those years. How could she..."

"Trent!"

He looked at her and his strength returned. "You're right." He stood up and paced the floor.

"We'll send her to your sister Irene in Cincinnaiti. She can have the baby there and have it adopted. She'll miss a year of school but that won't matter. We'll pay Irene for her food and board. She'll appreciate the help."

"Are you..."

He stopped and looked at her. "I'm not going to have her ruining her life because some hairy, oversexed bastard took advantage of her innocence. She probably didn't even know what he was doing."

"But shouldn't..."

"NO! That's all there is to it, Elaine! I've worked too hard to make sure that she's had all the chances I could give her. She's too smart to waste her life looking after that bastard's baby! She's only seventeen for God's sake! Now get on the telephone and arrange it with your sister. We'll send her off tomorrow or the next day. There's no sense in wasting time."

Elaine knew that there was no point in arguing.

* * *

"Amanda?"

He shook her shoulder.

"Amanda!"

She woke with a start to see her father's face leaning over her and she flinched. He stood up, a flicker of pain flashing across his eyes - she'd never - ever - shown fear of him before. What had he done?

"Get up and come into the kitchen for breakfast. Your mother and I need to tell you what we've decided." He turned and walked out.

Breakfast?

It was light outside. She was still dressed and lying on top of the bed. Slowly she became aware of an ache in her hand and, looking down, she saw that she was clutching the letter tightly. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't open her fingers, cramped from grasping it all night. Painfully she prised them open and massaged the circulation back, then she folded the note and put it under her pillow, not quite sure why.

She slowly stood up. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and her face throbbed. She trudged into the bathroom, relieved herself and stood, staring into the mirror. Her hair was lank and knotted, damp with sweat. But her face...

She washed her hands and splashed her face with cold water, the shock waking her a little, then she carefully patted her face dry and brushed her teeth. She ran a comb through her hair, unflinching as the knots tore out leaving strands of long, pale hair in the comb. She felt numb all seeing the horrible face staring back at her from behind the mirror. She trudged into the kitchen and sat down at the table, eyes downcast.

"Oh, Amanda!" He mother, her voice no more than a whisper, reached out a hand and gently touched the bruised cheek. Amanda flinched again and pulled her face away, not at the pain in her face, but the pain of her betrayal. Elaine sighed and turned back toward the bacon and eggs frying in the pan. She put two eggs and two slices of bacon on a plate, then turned and put it down in front of Amanda. 

The familiar smell struck Amanda's nostrils and she felt her stomach spasm in revulsion. She leapt up, tipping her chair over, and ran back to the bathroom to kneel in front of the toilet as her stomach desperately tried to expel its non-existent contents. Slowly the retching stopped and she knelt, eyes and nose streaming, panting and aching from the exertion, staring into the water, empty inside.

Her legs felt weak as she shuffled back to the sink to wash her face. This time she paid more attention the face in the mirror, trying to overcome the revulsion at what she saw. Her eyes were sunken and red-rimmed but the colour was returning to her face. Her right cheek was a mixture of pale blue and yellow bruises. Slowly despair gave way to quiet anger at herself. She was alone. Whatever the reason, she wasn't going to hear from Jake. _Jake._ She ignored the knot in her stomach. _What we've decided_.

Willing strength back into her legs she walked back to her room and rummaged around in the drawer for clean underwear.

"Amanda?"

"I need a shower," she said, not looking round.

"You have to eat."

"After I've had a shower. Maybe some toast." She took a clean pair of jeans and a blouse out of her closet and turned to pass her mother, glancing cautiously at her as she passed. She turned on the shower and undressed as the water warmed up then stepped under the stream, closing her eyes as the warm water hit her, and she relaxed just a little. The feeling was so delicious that she stood there with her eyes closed and her head turned up to the shower head, letting the water flow over her. Her right cheek throbbed with the warmth and she reluctantly reached for the shampoo. It felt so good to wash the sweat out of her hair. She took the soap out of the dish and started washing but stopped in shock as she reached her stomach. There was a distinct bulge, not big enough for anyone else to notice.

She finished her shower and dressed. Her cheek throbbed and looked worse, but she felt clean and as ready as she'd ever be to face whatever her parents had decided. She walked back to the kitchen, cautious about being assailed again by the odour, but the windows and doors were open and the smell of frying bacon had dissipated.

"Coffee?"

"Yes. Thanks."

Her mother put a cup down in front of her and she sipped the hot, strong brew eagerly. She closed her eyes for a second then looked at her father.

"What have you decided, Dad?"

"You're going to Aunt Irene's to have the baby. We've contacted an adoption agency. They'll take the child directly from the hospital. You can start school again next year and no-one need know." He spoke quietly, in a voice she knew was not one that invited discussion.

Amanda stifled her anger. "Did you think that I..."

"This is not something we're going to discuss, Amanda. Your Aunt's expecting you. You leave in the morning."

"But I..."

"ENOUGH! You've done your part in this, you and...whoever got you into this mess! Now..."

"His name's..."

"I SAID ENOUGH!" He stood, glaring down at her. "You leave in the morning. That's all there is to it. And be grateful that your Aunt's prepared to do this for you." He walked out. Amanda looked up at her mother, not really expecting any support. Her parents' marriage was a good one, she never doubted that they loved each other, or her, even now. But theirs was a traditional family. The Pope was the unquestioned head of the Church, and Trent Phillips was the unquestioned head of the family. That was all there was to it. All there would ever be to it. She still saw love and sorrow and forgiveness in her mother's eyes, but she didn't see rebellion.

"I'll have to get my things from school." she whispered.

"Yes. Of course Dear."

Amanda finished her coffee while her mother made some toast. She ate it quietly while her mind raced, then she took her backpack and walked to the bus stop.

* * *

Amanda had never seen Sister Assumpta out of her habit and she was startled by the unfamiliarity, her plain blue skirt and white blouse alien to Amanda's eyes. But the strangest thing was her hair. Amanda had never seen her hair. It had always been covered by the veil that she wore in public. Her hair was straight, greying, but with some of it still the glossy black that it must have been in her youth. The nun smiled, understanding Amanda's discomfort, letting her get used to it at her own pace.

She led Amanda up the stairs and into a small, spare, rectangular room, harshly lit by a single naked bulb in the ceiling. Along one wall was a cast iron bed with a thin mattress, covered by an immaculately smooth grey blanket turned back to reveal a snow-white sheet underneath. A pillow with an equally immaculate plain white cover rested against the bedhead. There was a small, dark wooden wardrobe against the far wall and a small, sturdy desk-sized table opposite the bed. A reading lamp, a bible, and a framed black and white photograph of a family; a mother, father and two pretty dark-haired girls were neatly arranged on the desk. Amanda guessed that the elder of the two girls was fourteen. 

Seeing Amanda's interest, Sister Assumpta nodded toward the photograph. "My Mom and Dad, with my sister and me." She pointed. "That's me. Marie's a doctor now, working in Seattle. She has three lovely children, two boys and a girl. The youngest is just about your age. I usually visit them over Christmas but this year they're in Europe."

Amanda smiled. "You were pretty before..." then caught herself.

Sister Assumpta's eyes laughed. "Before I became a nun you mean?"

Amanda blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"They give us ugly pills when we join the seminary, you know." She grinned, and whispered conspiratorially "So we don't tempt the priests."

Amanda smiled, grateful again for the easy way the nun had of making her feel comfortable, and she relaxed for a moment.

A single wooden chair was pushed under the table. Sister Assumpta pulled it out and motioned for Amanda to sit down, sitting down herself on the bed facing her young friend, hands clasped in her lap. On the wall above her was a cheap reproduction picture of the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus, and next to it an equally mass-produced crucifix, draped with a set of rosary beads. 

Amanda nodded at the picture. "That's Giotto's Ognissanti Madonna, isn't it?" The colours were dull compared to the expensive print she'd seen in the library's art books. She wondered what the original must look like and momentarily imagined herself in the Galleria degli Uffizi in Florence.

Sister Assumpta smirked. "I asked them if I could borrow the real one but they wouldn't let me."

Amanda smiled. 

"You're good, Amanda. I don't think any of my other students would have recognised it. But I don't suppose you came here to discuss renaissance Florentine art. What did you want to talk about, Dear?"

Amanda closed her eyes, gathering all her willpower, knowing that what she had to say was as much an admission to herself as to her friend and mentor - the first time she'd dared to speak the words aloud. She opened her eyes but couldn't bring herself to look the nun in the face. She stared down at her lap, and said quietly, "I'm pregnant."

Sister Assumpta's expression didn't change. "I thought it might be something like that"

"You...you knew?"

"No," She said gently, "but I knew it had to be important. We're friends, I think, Amanda, but in the three years you've been at Saint Agnes's you've never come to see me outside school time, never come to visit me in my room. I knew it had to be very important, and...well, there are only so many things..." She trailed off.

Tears filled Amanda's eyes. "Do you think I'm going to go to Hell?"

The room was tiny. With the chair pulled out, the distance between them was small enough for the nun to reach out and take Amanda's hand in hers. "That's for God to judge, Dear, not me. But if God does judge us, I'm sure that he judges us on what he sees in our hearts, not on the basis of our indiscretions."

Amanda sniffed.

"Have you told your parents?"

"Yes."

"How did they react?"

"Dad slapped me across the face. Hard. They're sending me away to have the baby and then have it adopted."

Sister Assumpta squeezed Amanda's hand and, looking into her face, noticed the fading blue-yellow tinge on her cheek. "And you, Dear? What do you want?"

Amanda stared back at her lap, hiding her face. A tear fell onto her dress. "I don't know. I was...hoping..."

"That I might be able to tell you what to do?"

Amanda nodded almost imperceptibly.

The nun paused, trying to find the right words. "You know I can't make the decision for you, Amanda?"

Amanda nodded again, and raised her face to look into the eyes of her friend. "But...can you help me know what's the right thing to do?"

Sister Assumpta sighed. "I wish I could my dear, but only you can know that." She paused. "You've been here for three years now and I think that we've probably taught something about the Church's teachings on ethics and morality." She gently put her hand under Amanda's chin and raised her head, looking her straight in the eye. "I want you to forget all that." Ignoring Amanda's gasp, she said "I believe that you have to listen to that quiet voice that you sometimes hear in your heart. Some people say it's God speaking to us, some call it our conscience. It doesn't matter. Somehow we have to try to quieten the clamour in our head so that we can hear it. Some do it by prayer, some use meditation, some people just lie in bed at night and they hear it in that quiet place between waking and sleeping. You have to find the way that works for you. That voice is hardly ever wrong."

"I...I..."

"You'd hoped that there'd be an easy answer? That I'd quote some Bible verses and tell you what to do?"

Another gentle nod.

"You made a choice when you conceived your baby, Amanda. Children want easy answers and often we adults give them one. It delays the time when they have to face some of life's harsher realities. Some never do. They go through their entire lives demanding easy answers. Politicians make a living - a very good living - out of giving them - these Peter Pans - what they want and I'm ashamed to say that the Church sometimes does the same thing. You're too important to me to give you an easy answer. If I gave you one now you'd always resent me because you'd know that I'd lied to you." Her voice was quiet. "I don't want you to remember me like that. The choice you made means that you're not a child any more. You can't afford to be." She stood, still holding Amdanda's hand. "Listen to the voice in your heart and follow its advice."

Amanda sniffed back another tear and nodded again.

"I'd like to give you something to take with you." The nun took three steps to the wardrobe and opened it. Amanda could see that there was a single drawer in the wardrobe next to a space where her surplice hung, perfectly pressed. Sister Assumpta opened the drawer and rummaged around, her body blocking Amanda's view of what she was doing. After a minute she turned, holding an envelope and a piece of writing paper which she folded and put into the envelope, licking and sealing it, then handing it to Amanda. "I want you to promise me that you'll only open it when things seem...darkest, at their most hopeless, not before." 

She looked at Amanda with the penetrating stare that Amanda had seen quieten a room full of raucous teenagers. "I promise," she whispered, taking the envelope and putting it in her pocket. She stood and turned to go, but spun quickly round on her heel and threw her arms around the Nun, clutching her in a tight embrace. Sister Assumpta returned the hug, and gently put her hand under Amanda's chin, lifting her head to look up into her face, tears once again filling the young girl's eyes. She kissed Amanda on the forehead and said "God bless you, Amanda."

"God bless you too sister." She turned and walked away, like Lot, not looking back.

* * *

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: 

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	3. California Dreaming

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 3: California Dreaming 

**~o0o~**

The sun streamed in through the bus window, orange as it dropped toward the horizon. Amanda sat with her elbow on the window ledge, one of half a dozen or so passengers in various states of boredom, reading, staring at the scenery or dozing the journey away.

_Listen to that quiet voice..._

Sister Assumpta had confirmed what the voice had whispered to Amanda as her hand had traced the tiny bulge in her stomach in the shower that morning, and a pang of regret passed through her as she realised that she'd never appreciated the friendship she and Sister Assumpta could have had. _One day, perhaps _she mused, aching to know what the nun had written in the note, but certain that she wasn't going to break her promise.

By the time she got home the day was fading to a warm Summer's evening and crickets were chirping in the front lawn. The path to the door which had seemed so alien just a few days ago felt less intimidating now - now that everything was out in the open. All the choices had all been made for her. All the choices except the one that she reserved for herself.

She ate without pleasure, told her parents that she'd collected everything she needed from school (which was the truth) and excused herself, saying that she wanted an early night and had to pack (which was also the truth). Trying to foresee what she'd need in unfamiliar situations she chose carefully, looking around the room in case anything stood out as indespensable, like Mister Foo, the faded and chewed knitted woollen rabbit who'd been her constant companion when she'd been a solitary little girl. She showered, set the alarm and buried the clock under a pillow to mute it, then went to bed. Sleep was frustratingly elusive but eventually it came, bringing strange dreams that were shattered by the alarm before she was ready. She reached under the pillow and shut it off, blearily staring at the ceiling and wondering for a moment why it was so dark. Dressing quietly, still half asleep, Amanda found herself staring at her nightdress, wondering whether to pack it or leave it and eventually stuffing it into her backpack. It was going to be hard enough for her mother, there was no point in making it any harder. 

She silently slid the window open, lowered her backpack onto the ground and started to climb out as she'd done those few months before on the night when everything had changed, but one last look back made her stop and turn back to her bed, smoothing the covers as she knew her mother would have done. Then, though earlier last night she'd decided against it she knew that she couldn't leave without one final act of love, and she tore a page of a notepad and wrote, placing the paper gently on the pillow.

_I'm sorry. Please forgive me and don't worry about me. I'll let you know when your grandchild's born._

_Amanda_

Shouldering the backpack Amanda climbed out the window and made her way through the darkened streets, self-conscious as she passed under streetlights and trying to walk quietly, imagining accusatory eyes staring at her from darkened windows, fearful of each car that drove past and battling a panic that threatened to overwhelm her. But every time she felt fear gripping her she thought about the consequences of turning back and fought it down, walking on towards the Interstate that skirted the southern edge of town. Guessing which side of the road headed west, she stuck out her thumb and strode resolutely in what she hoped was the direction of California.

There was less traffic than she'd expected at...she looked at her watch...three o'clock. Her parents wouldn't wake up for another four hours and by then she hoped to have put a couple of hundred miles between herself and home.

A blue Buick convertible, its top up, slowed and pulled off the road in front of her. Amanda's heart raced as she opened the door, slipped off the backpack and slid onto the bench seat.

"Mornin' little lady!" 

"Good morning. Thanks," she said nervously. He was about her father's age and his plaid sport coat and gold-rimmed glasses made her think of horses for some reason. He checked the rear-view mirror and pulled back out onto the road.

"It's early. Where are you headed?"

"Uh, I'm going to visit my Aunt in California and I wanted to get an early start."

He glanced across at her. "You don't look like the kind of kid who hitchhikes. They're usually a little, well, you know - a little more down on their luck."

_Oh God - don't let it fall apart - not now! _"I...uh..."

"Hey - I'm sorry. It's none o' my business. Relax. How about some music?" He flicked radio dial and music filled the car. 

_All the leaves are brown   
And the sky is grey   
I've been for a walk   
On a winter's day..._

"Thanks," Amanda breathed, relaxing and settling into the seat, genuinely grateful for the way he'd defused a potentially embarrassing situation.

"No problem little lady. I can take you as far as the state line. I'm heading up north from there."

"That'd be great. Thanks."

"It's good to have some company anyway. Been drivin' since midnight. I like to drive at night, there's less traffic and it's cooler in summer anyway. I do a lot o' travelling in my line o' work."

"Oh?" she said non-comittally, not really wanting to make conversation but not wanting to be rude.

"Oh yeah. I'm in injection moulded plastics. It's..." he glanced across at her again and chuckled. "Heh - but young lady like you wouldn't be interested in what an old fogey like me does for a living."

"No, it's...interesting," she lied. "But I'm a little tired. I'm not used to being up so early."

"Well, why don't you catch some shuteye then? I'll wake you in plenty of time."

"Thanks. I think I'll try." She leant over and rested her head against the window, far to wired to sleep but taking advantage of the chance to avoid difficult small talk, and closed her eyes. 

When she opened them again the sun was up and the car was motionless. She sat up with a start and looked around to see that she was alone in the car, which was parked in the lot of a McDonalds along with a dozen others. Just then the door opened, and the driver who'd picked her up stood holding a tray full of cups and paper sacks.

"Well little lady - you certainly did need some sleep," he smiled. "Thought you might like some breakfast."

Amanda sat up and looked at him in surprise as her stomach growled in hunger.

"Thanks!" she stammered. "But you..."

He put his finger to his lips. "Shh now. I've got a daughter about your age at home and I was thinkin' that, well, if she was out hitchin' at three o'clock in the morning, she'd have a damn good reason for it - better than visitin' her Aunt. Like I said, it's none o' my business, but I bet a little food and a cup o' coffee wouldn't go astray."

Amanda smiled up at him and took the tray, then suddenly realised that there was a potential problem. "Um, there isn't any bacon in this is there?"

"Bacon? No." He grinned. "You don't _look_ Jewish!"

"It's not that," she muttered, blushing. "Bacon just makes me...feel sick."

"Nope. No bacon." He closed the door and walked round to get in on the driver's side. Amanda put the tray down on the seat between them and picked up a coffee.

"Ahhh. That's so good!" she sighed as the hot coffee snaked its way down her throat.

"Louise - that's my wife - always said that the smell of bacon used to make her feel sick when she was carrying Sarah - that's our daughter. Cheeseburger okay?" He handed her a paper-wrapped package." I guess it's not exactly a healthy breakfast, but when you're on the road you have to make sacrifices eh?"

"This is really nice of you...sorry, I'm Amanda."

"Gerald Moreton. It's a pleasure, Amanda."

He dropped her off just over the border an hour later, with a little confidence that the trip may not be all bad if she met people as nice as Gerald Moreton. Was the remark about his wife as offhand as he'd made it seem? Was it obvious? 

A truck driver took her another fifty miles west and left her off at a road junction in the mid-afternoon. She would have enjoyed that part of the trip if it hadn't been for the country and western music. It was another hour before she got her next ride and she was glad that she'd had the foresight to pack some fruit and made a mental note to buy some more when she had the chance - there was no telling how long she might be on the road between rides.

Just as she'd finished eating a banana a faded two-tone blue and grey De Soto at least twenty years old slammed on its brakes as it drew level with her and fishtailed to a stop thirty feet ahead. Amanda's mind raced, wondering whether to accept the offer but, realising she didn't really have any choice, trotted up and opened the door. Behind the wheel sat a tiny little old lady, barely tall enough to see over the wheel.

"Hello Dearie! Sorry about that crash stop - I didn't see you until I was right beside you. I didn't scare you did I?"

Amanda smiled and chuckled. "Well, I admit that..."

"I wasn't what you were expecting?" She grinned charmingly. "I never am," she giggled. "Well - come on Dearie - get in, get in."

"Thank you," Amanda replied, climing up into the faded red leather seat.

"This used to be my husband's car, rest his soul. I could never bear to sell it once he passed on." She pulled out into the traffic without a backward glance as a car coming up behind swerved violently onto the left side of the road to avoid rear-ending them. "It's much too big for me of course, but I've been driving it for more than twelve years now and I always feel that Chester's here with me when I drive. I guess it'll see me out. I like to pick up hitchhikers though. I do a lot of driving and it's always good to have some company." She turned to Amanda and smiled sweetly. "I'm Aggie. Aggie O'Laughlin."

"I'm Amanda. I'm pleased to meet you Mrs....LOOK OUT!"

Aggie jerked her head round to the front and swung the wheel hard just in time to bring the car back onto the road, narrowly avoiding an unintended excursion into the bushes.  


"Oh, don't worry Dear," Aggie grinned. "I've been driving for nigh on fifty years and I've never had an accident. I'm sure that Chester's right here in the car looking after me."

_I hope he's keeping an eye on me too_ Amanda thought, breathing deeply to calm herself.

The next few hours were, like war, periods of interminable boredom interspersed with moments of stark terror. Aggie was sweet, funny, talkative, and as blind as a bat. That she had never had an accident was undoubtedly due to a guiding providence - battled by throngs of restless spirits of the motorists and pedestrians who'd died in the accidents she'd caused. Finally Amanda decided that she couldn't take any more and a town gave her the excuse she needed.

"Ah - Springfield! This is my stop!" she breathed with relief.

"Are you sure, Dear? You said you were going to California!"

"Oh - yes - I am, but my...cousin...Jake...lives in Springfield and I promised I'd drop in on the way."

Aggie slid to a stop as they entered the town centre, narrowly missing a mother pushing a baby carriage across a zebra crossing. "Well, I'm sorry to see you go, Dear. You were such good company! Good luck. It's so nice of you to visit your old grandmother in California."

"Thank you, Mrs O'Loughlin. Drive safely."

"I always do, Dear, I always do!"

Amanda watched as the big old car drove off down the street, narrowly missing an old dog who had shown the potentailly fatal judgement to cross the road at the same time as Aggie O'Laughlin was passing through town. 

Suddenly Amanda was seized by an urgent need to run after Aggie, to catch up to her, and she caught herself unconsciously raising her arm as if to beckon her back. She felt as if her last tenuous contact with the life she'd known all her seventeen years was disappearing forever.

She stared down the street. A few cars drove lazily by, seemingly unconcerned about where they might be going and in no particular hurry to get there. The sky was turning pale blue as the sun sank toward a cloudless horizon. The street was familiar but unfamiliar, like any other main street in a thousand other towns, and the reality of the situation struck her as violently and as unexpectedly as her father's hand. She was alone, with no idea of where she was or where she was going except for a vague desire to get to California, though she had no idea why California should be any better than anywhere else. She had a few dollars - hardly enough for a night's lodging, she knew no-one, she had no friends and no earthly reason, it seemed momentarily, to go on living. 

But inside her a tiny heart was beginning to beat - too small yet for her to feel, much too small for anyone to notice, but a life that, she knew with absolute certainty, she'd instantly give her own for.

The reality of her situation was overwhelming. She sat down on the edge of a planter box and wondered how in the name of God she was going to keep her baby and its life support system, herself, alive and safe, and she cried, alone in the deserted street.

Then, without any effort or desire on her part, Sister Assumpta's words came back to her _...when things seem darkest, at their most hopeless..._ She lifted her backpack into her lap, unbuckled and opened the flap across the top and reached inside, her fingers groping for the crumpled envelope. She took it out, buckled the flap and put the backpack back down at her feet. She had no idea what Sister Assumpta had written on the note. Words of comfort and wisdom, no doubt. They'd have to be powerful words indeed to comfort her now. She carefully ran a finger under the seal of the envelope and, taking out the note that her friend had written, dried her eyes on her sleeve and read...

_My dear Amanda,_

_I don't know what you're expecting to find in here but if you're reading this things must feel dark indeed my young friend. Words can be wondrous and profound, but sometimes practical help is better than the advice of friends. Use what's in the envelope wisely - you don't know how long it might have to last._

_God bless you both,_

_Carolyne_

She looked down into the envelope. Inside were ten twenty dollar bills.

* * *

_Dear Willy,_

_How's it going? _

_It's been over two weeks now and I haven't heard from Amanda. I can't work out why she hasn't written. I've been keeping up the "letter a week" routine._

_Mom caught me writing to her so I told her a little about Amanda. She's been great. She said that any girl would be flattered to have someone writing to her so "nicely"._

_I used to spend a lot of time making model planes. It was a way to keep myself occupied because I put a lot of work into the details - you know, painting them and making them as neat as I could. Old MD never let me have a train set when I was a kid but I could buy the models out of my allowance. I don't know whether it'd work now, but I need something to take my mind off things. MD's being his usual self but like I said, it doesn't get to me so much. I thought I might see if I could get a summer job, maybe working in a store or something like that. I'd like to buy a present for Amanda but I sure couldn't get her anything nice with my allowance._

_Oh, hey, I had this great idea! I bought a book of poetry and I thought I'd use it to press flowers for Amanda. Once they're dry I can put some in with my letters. I can't send her real flowers but I thought that she'd like some pressed flowers. I go for a lot of walks and I usually find some wildflowers to bring back with me. I hope she likes them anyway._

_So what's happening with you? I hope your Mom's well and that you're having a good vacation._

_Jake_

* * *

Amanda was stunned. With the thirty dollars she'd brought she had enough, if she was careful, to get to California and find a job washing dishes or something - anything - and somewhere to stay. Thoughts about what happened after that could wait.

She was about to add the two hundred to her purse when she stopped, and took five of the twenties for her purse but left the other five in the envelope, which she stuffed back into the backpack. _No point putting all these eggs into one basket_, she thought and, shouldering the backpack, she set off down the street feeling a little comforted by the fact that she didn't have to worry about money for the time being. In ten minutes she was back on the outskirts of town, walking towards a sign announcing _Springfield Motel, Color TV, $11, VACANCY_ in red neon.

Room 16 was small and sparse, its floor covered in brown and yellow diamond-pattern linoleum and the walls bare orange brick. A double bed with a pale blue chenille bedspread and a table fixed to the wall with a pitcher and two glasses completed the picture. She opened the door to the bathroom that took up the back quarter of the room. Until she spotted the toilet, with its paper banner announcing that it had been "Sanitised for your protection", she hadn't realised how welcome it the sight would be.

She washed her hands, picked up the backpack and sat down on the bed.

Confusing emotions swept over her. _My young friend..._ The strongest was the regret that, in all those years, she'd never even asked her friend what her name was. _Carolyne_. And the money. Did nuns get paid? Maybe they got some kind of allowance, like she did. _Like I used to_. If that was it, then two hundred dollars must have been a lot of money for her. Heck - two hundred dollars was a lot of money for anyone - more than she'd ever had before. _God bless you both..._ How did... _God bless you both_...How did she know...? Did Sister Assum...Carolyne... know what choice she was going to make, and what it would mean? Was there something in the nun's past that made her understand just what Amanda would need? Would she ever get the chance to thank her?

And Jake. Would she ever see Jake again? If she did, what would it be like? What was the truth? Not that letter, she was sure of that. 

She sighed, realising that she didn't have the luxury of self-pity any more and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, down the road to a hamburger place she'd seen on the way to the motel where she bought a burger, fries and a Coke for $1.25. The fries were half gone by the time she got back to her room and, as she sat at the table, listlessly chewing the burger, realising with a wry smile that she missed the bland but comforting meals at Saint Agnes's. Tossing the wrappers into the trash basket she reached up and turned on the TV perched on a shelf opposite the bed. _Here's Lucy_ and _Rowan and Martin's Laugh In_ were just distracting enough to block her thoughts for an hour and a half, long enough for sleep to creep up on her gently once she'd turned the TV off, changed, and brushed her teeth. If she dreamt she was unaware of it.

* * *

_Dear Jake,_

_Damn, man, I'm sorry to hear that you havent heard from Amanda. Shes a cathlic though and I reckon her parents might not take real kindly to her having a boyfriend. I bet shes having a hard time writing to you. Shell probably have to sneak out some time to write. I dont know much Jakey but I know that that pretty lady feels real strong for you._

_Hildas been writing to me and you were right Jakey, its real nice. I write back to her and tell her what Ive been doing. _

_Mas kind of sad but she dont say nothing about it. I figure shes worried that Im gonna up and leave her. Now that Pas gone Im the last one of us whos sort of at home now even though Im at Buxton Ridge all the time. I guess Ma still thinks of me as the baby of the family._

_Hey man, thats a real good idea you got to take a job and earn some money. You could buy Amanda something real nice. Shes a class act Jake, you dont want to go getting her some crap now. I bet youll find something just right._

_Its been great being home with Ma and shes real happy to have me here. It must get real lonely here for her now. We walk into town just about every day and we talk about the things that we used to do when Pa was alive and Paul and Susie and me were just kids. My Jake those were good times. We laugh a lot at all of the stupid things we used to do. _

_Paul wrote to say that he can come to visit in a week or so. Itll be real good to see him._

_Mas cooking aint getting any better._

_Write and tell me what kind of job you get._

_Your pal,_

_Willy._

Jake felt stupid. How could have have failed to realise that Amanda wouldn't be able to write to him so easily now that she was home? Willy was absolutely right, though a tingle of worry ran up his spine. What if her parents were intercepting his letters? How much trouble would it get her into if they found out what he'd writing? Should he stop writing, just in case? No, that was silly. Amanda was smart - she wouldn't let that happen. She'd find some way to make sure that things were okay.

He folded the letter and put it in the drawer of his desk.

The TV was on in the lounge room as he walked past, studiously ignoring, and being ignored by, Mad Dog. President Kennedy's promise of landing a man on the moon was looking as if it might just come off and he stood for a few minutes watching the report of preparations, the statistics about the huge Saturn V booster rocket too awe-inspiring to comprehend in any practical sense. Monumentous things were happening and Jake vaguely wondered what kind of future was in store for him. Whatever it was, Amanda was going to be there. Whatever happened, that was one absolute certainty.

* * *

It was raining when Amanda woke up.

She trudged sleepily over to the window and parted the curtains. The sky was mottled blue-grey and light rain was falling steadily though there was a pale patch low in the sky above the warehouse across the road from the motel. She turned back to the room and looked at the clock. Eight-fifteen. Nearly two hours before she had to check out. Perhaps it would clear up before she had to go. _Rain. I didn't think about that._

She showered, pausing to feel the tiny bulge just below her navel. Was it bigger today? No, of course not. One day wouldn't make any difference. She rested her hand over it as the warm water splashed across her back, imagining that she could feel the beating heart inside.

By the time she was dressed it was quarter to nine; the rain was easing and the clouds were a little thinner but there was no sense in setting out until she had to, though her stomach was letting her know that it was ready for breakfast. She carefully packed everything back in her backpack and spotted the complimentary pen and notepaper on the table next to the pitcher of water. _One last time_, she thought, and wrote slowly and thoughtfully...

_Dear Jake,_

_I don't think this will get to you. I don't know what's gone wrong but I know that the things in the note to my parents weren't true. In case this does ever get to you, I want you to know that our baby will be safe._

_Dad was going to send me away to have the baby and then have it adopted, but I can't do that. I'm hitch hiking to San Francisco. I don't know why, but it just seems to be a good place to be and they have a great art community that Sister Assumpta usedto talk about. I guess I'll find out when I get there. Maybe I can get a job in an art gallery or something like that. Sister Assumpta gave me some money - it's a long story and I wish that more than anything in the world I could tell you about it. I should be fine now until I can get a job._

_I suppose we won't see each other again so there are two things I want you to know. I love you, and I'll look after our child._

_All my love. Always._

_Amanda._

Sniffing back a tear, she folded the note carefully and put it in the envelope with Carolyne's letter and the remaining money. Nine-fifty. The rain had tailled off to sporadic showers and, running her eyes over the room for a final check, she shouldered the backpack and walked off into town to find some breakfast and post the letter.

One hour later, a Danish and a coffee in her stomach and some fresh fruit and a bottle of Coke in her backpack, Amanda was on her way out of town. The rain had cleared and the weather was cool, the road a mosaic of puddles and the still, moist air amplified the mid-mornining smells. She allowed herself the bittersweet luxury of letting her thoughts fade into the background, closing her eyes as she walked and letting her senses drink in the familiar scents of rain and wet farmland. 

If she hadn't been in exactly the wrong spot at that moment, if the truck that drove by had been just a few seconds earlier or later, if the road surface hadn't subsided a few inches...but she was, and it wasn't, and it had, and since her eyes were closed she heard the splash before the water hit her.

Too stunned to yell, she stood there, eyes open wide, watching the truck grow smaller as the little water it had left in the puddle regained its composure and settled down to resume its existance as still, muddy pool. She raised her elbows and looked down at the drenched clothes that clung to her, reminding her once more of that night but without any of either the pain or pleasure of remeniscence. Disgust and frustration fought in her mind and an involuntary wail of sheer animal fury escaped as she stomped back off the roadway to assess the situation. As she shrugged off the backpack the clatter of a Volkswagen engine caught her attention and she turned to see a battered red Kombi van slowly pull up behind her. The door opened and a woman, not much older than herself, jumped out.

"Aw Babe - that was a major bummer!" the woman said, sympathetically looking Amanda up and down. "That piggy did that on purpose - you can see those puddles coming for half a mile." She looked down the road as the truck disappeared over the brow of a hill. She tutted and shook her head, muttering almost to herself "Come the revolution...". Then, turning her attention back to Amanda, "Come on. Get in. Let's see whether he managed to soak your stuff too." She turned and walked back to the Kombi and opened the sliding door before turning back to Amanda and waiting for her to get in.

Amanda was so taken aback with the simple confidence that this woman exuded that she obeyed wordlessly, as if this was what had been meant to happen, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The driver was a young man with shoulder-length brown hair, a shaggy moustache and a string of blue lapis-lazuli beads around his neck. He watched Amanda get in with a sympathetic look. "Bad scene man," he said sympathetically.

Amanda dropped her backpack onto the floor and climbed in. The Kombi was set up for camping, the middle seats taken out and a table, hinged to the side, taking up some of the space that was left. It had been lovingly decorated with painted flowers and little round pieces of mirror glued to the sides, but what she noticed most was the sweet smell of what she would later come to recognise as a mingling of sandlewood incence and other herbal odours.

The woman climbed in, slid the door closed, started rummaging round in a suitcase that she retrieved from the space behind the back seat. As she searched she turned to look at Amanda. "Where you headed, babe?"

"Er, California...San Francisco I think..." she said uncertainly.

The woman beamed. "Ah - the city of love! Cool!" Turning to the driver she said cheerily "Drive on my man, we've got a passenger for the day." then, turning to Amanda, "That okay with you, babe? We're turning south at the border but we can get you a little closer."

"That'd be fine, thanks, um..."

The woman turned and laughed. "Sorry babe! I'm Willow and this," nodding toward the driver, "is Coyote, my main squeeze and soulmate."

Coyote raised his left arm in a close-fisted salute.

Amanda smiled. "I'm..."

"No! Let me guess!" Willow interrupted, peering intensely at Amanda. "Aquarius!"

Amanda looked puzzled. "No - Amanda," she smiled, amused by Willow's strange guess.

Willow laughed again, not in a derisory way but with such good humour that Amanda couldn't help grinning. "When's your birthday ba...Amanda? Hey - cool name by the way!"

"Cool," chimed Coyote from the driver's seat as he steered the Kombi back onto the road and picked up speed.

"Thanks," Amanda grinned. "January 23rd, but..."

Willow grinned with delight. "I knew it! I can always tell an Aquarius! Your age is coming, babe - the Age of Enlightenment!"

Amanda just looked puzzled.

"Hey, man," intoned Coyote from the front. "I think Amanda's probably more interested in getting dry than getting her horoscope read."

Willow looked abashed. "Oh - yeah - damn, sorry babe." She pulled a towel out of the suitcase and handed it to her. "I don't like your chances of finding much dry in there," she said, indicating the soaked backpack.

Amanda took the towel gratefully and dryed her face and hair. She reached over and lifted the backpack onto the seat beside her, but she knew before she opened it that anything touching the sides was going to be wet. "I guess I'll dry out. At least it's looking like a warm day."

"It's cool. We're about the same size - I've got something that'll fit." Willow dug into a cardboard box and brought out a red crushed velvet dress. "This'll do," she smiled, handing it to Amanda.

"Wow - it's beautiful!" Amanda breathed, running her hand back and forth over the soft plush fabric. She glanced nervously at the rear-view mirror.

Willow grinned and walked up to the front of the van, pulling two curtains across behind the front seat. "That's a bod not to be ashamed of, babe, but I guess you're a little shy."

Amanda blushed as she dragged the wet top over her head and tugged the sodden jeans off. She towelled herself dry and pulled the dress over her head, enjoying the feeling of being at least partially dry - her underwear would dry out soon enough.

"Oh yeah! That really suits you! Stand up." Willow smiled.

Amanda stood, crouched over in the low-roofed van as Willow ran an eye over the fit. "It's a little loose," she muttered, then caught Amanda's eye and her expression changed. "You're going to need some looser clothes soon. You won't be able to wear jeans much longer. What are you - nearly four months?"

Amanda staggered back into the seat, feeling intense heat flush across her face. 

"I'm sorry. Most people wouldn't notice," Willow said gently and swung round to sit next to Amanda.

"I guess I'll have to get used to it," she sighed. "You're the first person to notice."

"Amanda, it's none of my business, but you're - what - seventeen, eighteen?"

"Seventeen."

"Yeah. Well, seventeen, pregnant, hitching...it's my guess that things aren't working out exactly the way you might have planned them, huh?"

Though Willow was probably only a year or two older than Amanda it seemed as if she had the weight of many more years on her shoulders, and it was easy to talk to her. Amanda didn't tell the whole story, but gave her the outline while Willow listened with motherly concern. 

"Man," Willow said admiringly, "that took a lot of courage."

"Courage?"

"Shit yeah! Boarding school girl, easy life. Just getting up and leaving it like that - not knowing where you were going or what you were going to do! That's amazing. You've got the makings of an Earth Mother, child."

Amanda hadn't thought of it like that. She'd just done what had to be done, but she was flattered to have someone like Willow say it. She wasn't sure what an Earth Mother was, but she liked the sound of it.

Willow drew the curtains back and explained that she and Coyote had set out on their voyage of discovery six months ago, camping and taking odd jobs here and there to support themselves while they travelled around the country "looking for America", as she put it. The phrase sounded romantic and wonderful to Amanda, who understood that she'd led a reletively sheltered life, and her admiration for Willow grew as she listened to tales of their travels. Around noon they stopped to make some jasmine tea and eat some herb bread that Willow had made the day before in a camp oven. Coyote talked about "the struggle", which Amanda came to understand was a rebellion against materialism, the "war" (which Coyote explained wasn't a war under the terms of the Geneva Convention) in Viet Nam, and the movement for peace that had started in California and was spreading across the world.

In the late afternoon they pulled into a little town, much the same as the one in which Amanda had spent the previous night.

"Well, babe, this is it. Coyote and I are heading south to meet up with a friend who's in college there. We thought we might hang out with her for a while, but we'll probably make it up to San Francisco sooner or later."

Amanda looked at her new friends with a mixture of admiration and sadness that they had to part so soon. "I'll just get back into my jeans," she said, turning to take them down from over the seat where they'd been drying.

Willow looked shocked. "No way! That dress is yours, Ba...Amanda. Like I said, you're going to need it. Shop in second hand places - particulary the ones in the good parts of town. You'd be amazed what you can pick up cheap."

"Really? I can have it?"

"Property's theft, man," chimed in Coyote, grinning. "Besides, you look really cool in it."

"Man's right," added Willow. "And like I said, you're going to need more of that sort of stuff."

Coyote clambered over the seat into the back of the Kombi and helped Amanda gather her dry clothes. He and Willow stood on the sidewalk, their arms around each other, and held their free arms out to Amanda. They were so different to anyone she'd met before, and she hugged them both as she'd wanted to hug her mother and father. Coyote untied the leather thong that held the pale blue beads around his kneck and placed it around Amanda's, tying the thong in the back.

Amanda held the beads up, not understanding. "But, " she stammered, "but I don't have anything..."

"I think they were meant for you, not me. I got them from an Indian shaman who told me I had to have them because they'd bring good luck. Indians are wise, man. He didn't say who they'd bring good luck to!" Coyote smiled. 

"Hold your head up, daughter of Aquarius," Willow said, in that way she had. "Your child's going to be born at the dawn of a new age. Everything's gonna work out for you. I know it." At that moment, Amanda felt as if it might be true, as if things just might turn out alright after all.

As she watched the Kombi drive away Amanda unconsciously fingered the string of beads around her neck, feeling that her world had grown a little larger for their meeting. Then hitching the backpack up on her shoulders she crossed the road to check into another nameless motel.

The door to Dave's Bar and Steakhouse stood open as she neared it and half a dozen ruacous young men tumbled out onto the sidewalk. Their loud conversation hushed as she approached and Amanda felt rather than saw their eyes following her. She concentrated on looking straight ahead and picked up her pace.

"Hey, it's one o' them hippies!"

"Hey, baby!"

"I know all about hippies - make love not war!"

"Hows about makin' a little love to me, sweety?"

Amanda did her best to ignore them, but just as she thought she'd passed them she felt a strong hand grab her shoulder, spinning her round to face one of the group. His hair was close-cropped and dirty, his breath reeking of beer and tobacco smoke, and she struggled to free her arm from his grasp.

"Let me go - please!" she pleaded.

"Aw - we're just tryin' to be friendly, sugar," he grinned. "You ain't from 'round here and I just bet you'd like to meet some friendly fellas."

She noticed the others circling her. "Yeah - we could show you a good time, honey!" another said and she felt a hand on her backside.

"Please..." she moaned, feeling a surge of panic as she pushed the hand away with her free arm.

The first man's expression changed to a scowl. "Now you shouldn't o' done that," he growled menacingly. "We was just tryin' to be nice and friendly, but if you don't wanna be nice then maybe we..."

In her terror she didn't register the presence coming up behind her, but they all froze as the strong voice rang out, "What the HELL are you doing with MY WIFE?"

Amanda felt a strong hand grasp her arm and drag her away. "Get in the car Susan," the voice commanded as she was swept towards the open door of a strangely old-fashioned looking but gleaming red car.

**~o0o~**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: 

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	4. Light and Shadows

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 4: Light and Shadow 

**~o0o~ ~o0o~ ~o0o~**

"Where are you going, Jakey?"

"Into town, Mom. I'm thought I'd buy a model plane."

Jake's mother smiled. "You and your models, Jake. You're so clever, the way you make all those details."

"Yeah. Well, I need something to keep my mind on things." - "or off things," Jake muttered under his breath. "Of course if I'd been allowed to have that train set..."

"Now Jakey, let's not start that again."

"Yeah. Good idea Mom - let's not." Jake scowled as he opened the door. "I'll be back after lunch some time."

"Have fun Jakey."

A fifteen minute bus ride took Jake into town and a five minute walk took him to Potter's Model and Toy Store, resisting admitting to himself that he was feeling the old sense of anticipation that he'd always felt when he'd looked in Potter's window, wondering what new models had come in. Last year it had been a Junkers Ju87-D1 which had all the Luftwaffe markings perfectly detailed. But it was kid's stuff, he thought dismally. He'd fought with himself over the idea of buying a new model to build, resisting the urge to slip back into a past life that he desperately wanted to reject, to move on from. But he finally surrendered, justifying it by remembering how easy it was to slide into the intense concentration of detail painting and modelling, letting time just slip away and the world leave him alone for a while.

The first thing to grab his attention wasn't the new models. It was a sign.

_Junior Wanted Over Summer Vacation.   
Apply Within._

Jake opened the door and familiar bell jingled. A thin, balding man wearing a blue jacket over a white shirt and grey slacks looked up over his black-rimmed glasses to see who was coming in, and a smile lit up his face. "Jake! Jake Morgendorffer! Welcome home, son. I've been wondering when I'd see you. How's Buxton Ridge been treating you?" 

Jake grinned. Jake had always wished that Mister Potter could have been his father. Over the years that he'd been a regular, Mister Potter had always taken the time to talk to him, to take an interest. Every time he finished a new model he'd bring it in to show the store owner, who'd "ooh" and "aah" over it, praising Jake for the way his skills had improved since the last one, and chatting about the new season's kits. Maybe it was just his way of keeping a customer, but it always felt to Jake as if Mister Potter simply liked kids; simply liked _him_.

"Hi Mister Potter. Buxton Ridge? It's tolerable I guess. How's business?"

"Better than usual, Jake! I'll tell you, these new slot cars are just taking off like you wouldn't believe. I thought I'd put a junior on over school vacation to help."

"Yeah - I saw the sign in the window."

Mr Potter dropped his head and looked at Jake over the top of his glasses. "You interested Jake? I could use a bright lad like you. You'd be a real help, what with your eye for detail. I need someone Monday to Friday nine to five and nine to twelve on Saturdays, for the vacation."

A little jolt of adrenaline coursed through Jake's bloodstream. A summer job? Here?

Mr Potter filled the pause. "Pay's fifty dollars a week. What do you say?"

Fifty dollars a week! In ten weeks that was five hundred dollars. Five-hundred-dollars! Jake's mind raced. For five hundred he could get Amanda...anything!

"Jake?"

"What - oh - sorry."

"Well, son? What do you say?"

"Mister Potter - you've got yourself an employee!" Jake's eyes sparkled.

"Well that's great Jake. When can you start?"

"I'd better tell Mom - I said I'd be home after lunch. Would tomorrow be okay?"

"Tomorrow'd be just fine, but I'll tell you what - you can perform your first official duty right now if you like."

"Sure! What would you like me to do?"

Mr Potter grinned. "Take the sign out of the window."

* * *

As Jake walked back to the bus stop he paused in front of a jeweller's store. He'd never had even the slightest interest in the shiny things in jewellers' windows before but, suddenly, everything was interesting, everything was...important. His eyes lit on a silver locket, heart-shaped with a fine gold filigree. He saw it hanging around her neck, silver and gold against pale skin, reflecting her honey hair, hanging it around her neck and Amanda...Amanda...holding her hair up as he fastened the clasp at the back, looking into his eyes the way she had that night, and they'd kiss...

The vision filled him and he turned to walk home, all thoughts of busses subsumed in a waking dream.

His legs carried him on automatic pilot, but something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention . Wildflowers. He stopped and stared for a second, then stepped over onto the long-vacant lot. Looking around he realised that they probably weren't wildflowers at all, but the remnants of what had once been a garden. The lot had been vacant and overgrown as long as he could remember but there must have been a house on it years ago. The remains of the foundations were still there, though he'd never noticed them or the discolouration on the bricks that told of the fire that had left the lot to slowly return to nature.

Grasping a small bouquet gently in his hand, Jake picked up his pace so that the flowers would be as fresh as possible when he got them home. The warm summer air raised a sweat on his brow, but Jake could have been in Death Valley in summer or in Gnome at midwinter. His climate was internal and, inside, all was fragrant spring.

* * *

The house was empty when he got home and he laid the flowers down gently on the kitchen table. He walked to his room, whistling, to collect the book, then carefully cut six sheets of absorbent paper to lay between the pages so that the flowers wouldn't stain the book as they dried. He took a sheet, opened the book and lay the paper down over the page then carefully placed three of the flowers so that, when the book was closed, they'd be pressed between the pages without folding or damaging the petals. As he prepared the third and last page the front door opened and Jake's parents walked in, his mother carrying two heavy paper bags stuffed with groceries in her arms. Jake left the book where it lay and went to meet her, taking the bags from her.

"Why, thank you Jakey! What a good boy." Ruth smiled.

Jake glared at his father who walked past empty-handed as if he hadn't seen the exchange. "No problem, Mom. These are heavy." He took the bags and set them down on the kitchen table, then turned to see his father staring at the open poetry book with the flowers resting on it.

"What's this?" Mad Dog grunted.

"It's a book, Dad. A poetry book. And those things in it are flowers. I guess you're not familiar with them," Jake said, his voice neutral as he started unpacking the groceries.

Mad Dog's face coloured and he turned to Jake but just as he opened his mouth Ruth spoke, hoping to avoid the blowup that was threatening.

"Why, Jakey, you're pressing flowers! What a lovely idea!"

Jake turned to his mother. "Yeah," he smiled.

"Oh - they're beautiful, Jakey. I'm sure that..."

"Poetry? Pressing flowers?" Mad Dog growled. "What kind of goddamn sissy are you turning into, boy? I didn't send you to Buxton Ridge so that you could become a poetry-reading, flower-pressing...pansy." He flicked his arm contemptuously at the kitchen bench.

"Now Dear..."

"Don't 'now dear' me woman," Mad Dog barked. Ruth took and involuntary step back. "How in the hell did a son of mine ever become a goddamned girl?"

Jake stared at his father as realisation dawned. "A pansy? You think...you honestly think..." Jake burst out laughing, stunned by the ridiculousness of the accusation.

"Even giggling like a goddamned girl," grunted Mad Dog.

Jake pulled himself together. "A girl eh? Well it might interest you to know that I happen to have a girlfriend. And do you know what? She's beautiful and she loves me! I've just got a job and I'm going to buy her a present. And I'll tell you something else for free, Mad Dog - when I see her again I'm going to ask her to marry me! So how do you like that?"

Neither Jake not Mad Dog noticed Ruth's expression or the subtle change in the colour of her face.

"You?" Mad dog snorted. "A girlfriend? What kind of girl would ever want to marry you?"

"What kind of girl would want to marry me?" Jake felt his anger rising. "A beautiful, smart, talented girl. A girl who appreciates things like poetry and flowers and knows that there's more to life than knowing how to shoot a rifle and wearing a uniform and seeing commies on every street corner. That's what kind of girl."

"In your dreams, boy. If this girl's so taken with you, how come she hasn't written to you? How come we haven't heard anything from her?"

A cannonball hit Jake in the stomach and he felt his face flush. "Because...because..."

An unfamiliar expression crossed Mad Dog's face, and he repeated more quietly. "In your dreams, boy." 

Jake stared up at his father with raw hatred on his face, the old sense of impotence and shame returning. He turned and stamped off down the hall, ashamed to be the same, after all the changes, ashamed to feel that it had all been an illusion, that his father still had the power to reduce him to helplessness with a word. Throwing open the door of his room he slammed it behind him with all the force of his hatred and dived onto his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, and whimpering like a beaten puppy.

* * *

"Jake?"

...

"Jake? Are you awake?"

Jake turned over slowly and looked up at his mother. "Yeah."

"Jake, you know that your father..."

"I know that my father hates me. I know I hate him."

Ruth sighed, and reached out to stroked her son's hair. "I know it must seem like that at times, Jakey, but..."

"But nothing." Jake sat up and looked his mother in the eyes. "You should hear how Willy talks about is Dad, Mom. He died a year ago and all Willy talks about it what a great guy he was, how much fun they used to have! That's the way it's supposed to be - not like this! What did I do to deserve this?"

Ruth stroked his hair gently. "Dear, you know, he does have a point."

He turned and looked into her eyes. "A point?"

"You have to admit Jakey, it's been two weeks since you left school. You've written three letters to her and she hasn't written anything to you. Are you absolutely sure that she...feels the same way about you that you do about her?"

_Of course she does! I have her letters at school. She loves me. She's just...she can't..._

"Jakey?"

"I'm tired Mom. I have to work in the morning. I want to sleep."

* * *

After showering Jake felt a little more awake and he dressed carefully, making sure his tie reached down to his belt buckle. He trudged into the kitchen, consciously willing his legs to make the right movements, and sat down at the table.

"Jakey! My - don't you look smart!"

Mad Dog looked over the top of his paper and cast a surreptitious but approving glance over his son. "Hm," he grunted. "About damn time you did something useful," then went back to reading the sports page.

Jake looked up at him through bloodshot eyes, then down to the plate of pancakes in front of him. "Can I have some coffee please, Mom?"

"Of course Dear. You look as if you didn't sleep very well last..."

"I slept like a log. Never better." Jake took the cup, stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar and drained it as quickly as he could without burning his mouth. He spread a pat of butter over the top pancake, drizzled the stack with maple syrup and sliced off a three-pancake deep triangle. It tasted perfect, just like his mother's pancakes always did, but he might as well have been eating damp newspaper. He looked up at the clock above the refrigerator and stood, pushing in his chair. "I'm going. I don't want to be late on my first day."

Ruth turned from the sink and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye Jakey. Work hard! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks Mom. I will," he mumbled unemotionally, glancing across the table to where his father sat seemingly oblivious to the fact that his son was about to leave for his first job. Jake marvelled that, after seventeen years of experience he was still able to feel a faint twinge of disappointment, and hated himself all the more for it.

As he heard the door close, Mad Dog lowered the newspaper. His face was pale and covered in sweat and his mouth was pulled back in a grimace of pain.

**~o0o~**

"What the HELL are you doing with MY WIFE?"

The group turned from Amanda to stare at the source of the question, a tell, thin man, maybe three or four years older than Amanda. The expression of anger and resolve on his face confused the drunks, their minds too fogged with alcohol to respond before he'd firmly taken her arm and spun her around to face the road and started walking toward a car..

Though he'd moved quickly, the world moved in slow motion as Amanda felt herself guided firmly into the seat, the door closing silently behind her. She stared at the group of drunks on the sidewalk as they moved uncertainly towards the car, one trying the door and his mouth grimacing in anger to find it locked. She felt rather than heard the other door close and the car move quickly away from the curb, her eyes fixed in fascination on the group gesticulating impotently after them. Slowly things returned to normal speed as the sounds around her became audible.

"...could have happened!" she heard the driver say, turning to look at him as he started the car, shaking her head as if to clear it. He had a shock of shaggy brown hair and a thin moustache, and was looking straight ahead as he changed gear and guided the car through the traffic. As soon as the car was underway he glanced at Amanda, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She realised how odd that was and wondered why her tongue refused to do what she wanted it to, then realised that the scene was swimming and getting darker...

"Shit!" He looked in the rear-view mirror and swung the car off into a side street before pulling over and turning the motor off. Amanda felt a sensation in her hand and looked down to see him holding it in one of his and gently patting the back of it with the other.

"Miss, are you alright?"

Things stabilised around her and she forced herself to speak.

"Yes...thanks...I...."

"It's okay. Take it easy. hold on." He got out and walked round to the back of the car. She turned to look over the back of the seat. It was a type of station wagon, the area behind the front seats filled with a neat assortment of boxes and bags. She watched as he reached over into a metal box with a lid, take something out and close the rear doors then walk back to sit down beside her. He unscrewed the top of a shiny silver flask and poured some of the contents into a cup. 

"Here. Drink it all." he said seriously, handing her the cup.

She looked at the pale brown liquid and upended the cup into her mouth. Seconds later she swallowed involuntarily and coughed, feeling the astringent liquid burn its way down her throat into her stomach and her eyes flood with tears.

He chuckled quietly. "Brandy. Strictly medicinal of course."

Amanda handed the cup back to him, catching her breath.

"Better?" he asked, a thin smile on his lips.

She nodded, forcing herself to breath normally. "Yeah, I think so, thanks."

"That's okay - I take it you're not used to it."

"No, I've never had it before. I mean I don't drink at all! Do people really drink that because they enjoy it?" she gasped, still trying to catch her breath.

"So I'm told. It's not really my scene, but it seems to live up to its reputation for bringing people 'round. I think you passed out there for a second."

Amanda felt her cheeks flush. "I'm sorry - it all just happened so fast - I don't know..."

Anger flashed across his face. "Those bastards were off their gourds. I saw what was happening and I had to do something. Man, I could see things getting completely out of control. I hope you don't mind the 'what are you doing to my wife' routine, but I had to confuse them long enough for us to get out of the way. Not that they needed much confusing."

"Mind?" She felt a warm sense of relaxation flowing from her stomach up her spine. "No! No - you were great!" She smiled. "The look on that blond guy's face when he tried the door and it was locked..."

He grinned. "Yeah. It was pretty funny."

They both started to laugh. "What are you doing to my wife?" he said with mock seriousness, setting them off on a laughing jag.

"Sorry. I'm Amanda Phillips," she said when they'd caught their breath. 

He looked back at her with a smile. "Wouldn't it have been funny if your name really was Susan? Vincent Lane. Most of my friends call me Vinny."

**~o0o~**

"You okay, son? Your eyes look like a couple of fried eggs."

"Yeah - yeah, thanks Mister Potter. I didn't sleep well, that's all."

"Ah - worried about the job I expect. Well don't you worry Jake - you'll do just fine. Now come and let's take a look round so that you know where everything is, them I'll show you the stock books and the orders. Later I'll show you how to work the till. Tuesday mornings are usually quiet."

Jake felt a thrill of excitement drive away the weariness of a sleepless night. A job! Money! Ama...he felt a knot in his stomach but ignored it as he followed Mister Potter into the storeroom out the back.

An hour later Jake had a basic idea of how things worked. The till was simple to operate and Mister Potter was pleased with how quickly he picked up the basics. 

Jake's first customer was a woman who wanted advice on a birthday present for her son. Mr Potter hovered in the background pretending to tidy the shelves, listening closely as Jake's nervousness slowly gave way to confidence and he asked about the boy's age and interests. He smiled as the woman listened to Jake's advice about the level of skill needed for each type of model and then as she thanked Jake, asking whether her son could come in for advice about the model Jake had helped her to choose. As he Jake rang up the sale Mr Potter came up beside him.

"That was good work, son. That boy'll be in here in a week wanting to know more and if you handle him as professionally as you handled his mother, I'll have a new customer for years to come - maybe as good a customer as you've been since you were a kid."

Jake blushed. "Gee - thanks Mr Potter."

"Now why don't you read some of the instruction manuals for those slot cars so you can give people advice about them too. Sometimes they call up for help."

Jake had a spring in his step as he walked home that afternoon. Instead of criticism he was getting praise. Instead of being told how useless he was, he was being told what a good job he was doing. For the first - no, second - time in his life, he felt the thrill of being valued for what he was instead of despised for what he wasn't. Life was good, and he stopped at the vacant lot to pick another small bouquet for Amanda.

The week passed quickly. Every day Jake got up early, looking forward to work and usually arriving early, waiting outside the shop for Mr Potter to arrive.

On Friday afternoon Jake had gone into the storeroom to arrange the stock a little more efficiently. As he opened the door to come out he was struck to see his father talking to Mr Potter.

"...fine boy, Mr Morgendorffer. I wish I could keep him on after school goes back. You must be very proud..." Mad Dog's smile turned to a frown as he noticed Jake come out into the shop, and Mr Potter's head turned to follow his gaze. "Ah - Jake - I was just telling your father what a wonderful job you're doing," he said uncomfortably before hurrying off to help a customer.

Jake walked reluctantly to the counter where Mad Dog was standing, saying nothing.

"Hmph," grunted his father. "Leave it to you to fine a job where you can play with all yer baby toys. Still - you're working now, guess you can take yer old man to a movie, huh? The Duke's got a new movie playin' at the Valetta, matinee tomorrow, Jake, The Green Berets. Whaddaya say?"

Emotions warred in Jake's mind. An afternoon with the old man? Still, its was THE DUKE - maybe it wouldn't be so bad. _Wonder what a beret is? Must be something the Indians wear, a feather maybe, they sure have weird names for stuff. _Slowly warming to the idea he stuttered out a hesitant "Sure". 

With that, Mad Dog nodded gruffly, spun on his heels and walked out, seemingly satisfied with the conversation. Jake stood watching him go.

"Your father seems like an odd sort of character, Jake," Mr Potter said hesitantly after his customer had left. "He looked pleased when I told him what a good job you were doing but then as soon as you came out of the storeroom it was as if he changed."

"Odd?" offered Jake quietly, still staring at the door that his father had walked out of. "Yeah. That's a word I'd use. Odd." He looked down at Mr Potter. "He wanted me to take him to a movie tomorrow after work, a John Wayne movie at the Valetta."

"The Duke eh? You a John Wayne fan, Jake?"

Jake chuckled. "Yeah! I mean who wouldn't be? He's so..."

"Manly?, Heroic?" offered Mr Potter.

"Yeah. I mean he always wins - everything he does is perfect. He always gets the girl at the end. You know, Mr Potter, The Duke's the only thing that my Dad and I have ever agreed on."

"Hm. Well, I guess it's better than nothing, Jake, and it's a good way for you to celebrate your first pay. Maybe you should take your parents out to dinner after the show?"

Jake's face lit up. "Dinner! Mom would love that! I've never been able to do anything like that for her - that's a great idea. Uh, where would I take them?"

"Well, there's a diner two blocks down from the Valetta. The food's plain but it's good, and it's always clean. I sometimes take Mrs Potter there after we've seen a show."

"That's perfect! Thanks Mr Potter!"

Mr Potter looked at his watch then slid around Jake to the cash register and pressed the No Sale key. The drawer sprang open and he took out a twenty, which he handed to Jake. "Advance on your first week's pay. It's just after four. I don't suppose we'll get many people in now - why don't you go on down to the Valetta and get your tickets, then you won't have to wait in line tomorrow afternoon. And have a look at that diner I was telling you about."

Jake stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at his employer, stuck for words.

Mr Potter laughed. "Close your mouth Jake - you'll catch flies. Go on. See you tomorrow morning."

"I...Wow! Thanks Mr Potter! You won't regret this! You'll see!" At that moment, Jake would have taken a bullet for his boss.

"I know I won't son," Mr Potter smiled as he watched Jake hurry out the door.

**~o0o~**

"Well, I was just about to find somewhere to eat. I don't suppose...?" Vincent's rising inflection leftt he option open.

"Uh, well, I need to find somewhere to stay for the night, but I'm hungry..."

"Hey - me too. You're not from around here then?"

"No. I'm..." She sighed. "It's a long story."

"Then let's get something to eat and you can tell me about it."

Amanda smiled. It would be nice to have someone to chat to over dinner instead of just tossing down a hamburger in another nondescript motel room. "Thanks. I'd like that."

Vincent drove around the block and they cruised slowly down the main street, looking on both sides of the road for places to eat. "So," he said, "what's your preference. Hamburger, ribs, steak, Mexican, Chinese?" he slammed on the brakes and swung the car into a parking spot outside a diner. "How about this?"

"Uh, sure. This looks good." The sky was turning pale blue as the sank, and the lights from the diner with its bright red and white vinyl decor seemed inviting. Vincent jumped out, locking hte car door, and ran around to open Amanda's door for her, bowing low. Amanda laughed and climbed out, waiting as he carefully locked her door. As the reached the door of the diner he held it open for her, grinning as she bobbed in a small curtsy, and they walked in and sat down at a booth. Vincent picked up a menu, eagerly scanning it as his stomach growled in a Pavlovian response in anticipation of being fed. He looked up at Amanda to see a far away look in her eyes as she stared down the length of the diner. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"Oh," she said quietly, turning to him, "This place just reminds me of a malt shop I used to hang out in with my friends. I...miss them."

"Oh. Uh - would you rather go somewhere else? Look, I'm sorry, I guess I've been kind of forward about this - I didn't really give you much choice..."

"No," she said quickly. "Really - it's fine! If you hadn't turned up I...I'd rather not think about what might have happened. I..."

"You two ready to order?" The waitress chewed her gum laconically, flicking a bored gaze back and forth between Vincent and Amanda.

"Yeah - I'll have..." he looked over at Amanda and realised that she hadn't looked at the menu yet. "Uh, could you give us a few minutes?"

"No - it's okay - I'll...have..." Amanda scanned the menu and saw something that made her heart skip a beat. "Meatloaf! With mashed potatoes and gravy!"

"One mystery pie with mash." She wrote Amanda's order down and looked at Vincent.

"Hm - yeah - I'll have the steak and eggs, over easy, with a side of fries and a coffee. Oh, and a piece of the coconut cream pie."

"Oh - could I have a glass of milk too please?" Amanda chimed in.

"Sure." The waitress hurried off.

"Meatloaf!" sighed Amanda. "I always loved meatloaf at..." She looked up at Vincent and suddenly felt very small and lonely. If all that hadn't gone wrong...she'd be at school again soon, looking forward to meatloaf, sleeping in the steel-framed bed with the sagging springs...but here she was in a town she didn't even know the name of, saved from who knows what by a stranger, feeling an impossible depth of loss for something she'd never know again. Her lip quivered. "At...school."

Vincent began to wonder what he'd let himself in for. There was something eating this girl from the inside; something about her face that, even when she smiled, had a look about it...something about the way her eyebrows turned down at the corners. She had a pretty face, not classically beautiful, but open and...sad. He felt sorry for her, but he didn't know whether he wanted to know what it was, or get tangled up with it. Damn. Why couldn't he just have dropped her off a few blocks from that bar, wished her luck, and driven on? Why did...

"I'm sorry." Amanda pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and brushed it across her eyes. "What are you doing here, Vincent? Is this where you live?" She smiled at him and her eyes gleamed. She felt completely at ease with him. Maybe it was gratitude for the way he'd pulled her (literally) out of a sticky situation, but probably just his easy manner, the way he'd joked with her at the car and the diner door. For the first time since she'd left home - since she'd arrived home, in truth - she felt herself relax.

"No. I'm like you, I'm just passing through. I'm on my way up north. I'm a photographer - freelance."

Amanda's eyes widened with real interest. "A photographer! What do you photograph?"

"People, mainly."

"Just people?"

"No," he grinned, "not just people. I've got a theme. You know Bob Dylan's song - 'The Time's They Are a'Changin'? There's a revolution going on out there. You can call it generational warfare, or the Age of Aquarius," _There's that expression again_ she thought, "or whatever you like, but the fact is that the times are changing faster than they ever have. There's probably never been a generation that's turned around its parents' values like this, and I want to document it." He looked across the table at Amanda. "You. Look at you! You're exactly what I mean!"

Amanda felt a knot tighten in her stomach. _He doesn't know - he doesn't mean..._

"You hippies are exactly what I'm talking about!"

A squeek of laughter burst from Amanda's mouth and she clapped her hand across it in embarrassment. _Me...?_ she looked down at the dress that Willow had given her and her fingers found the lapis lazuli beads on their leather thong that Coyote had tied around her neck. She'd taken he hair out to dry this morning and never tied it back up. _He didn't say who they'd bring good luck to! _She thought of Willow's self-assurance. She thought about Coyote's sense of justice and conviction; she thought about their generosity and kindness. And she thought _why not?_

"This is a social upheaval, man, a generation in revolt. Momentous things are gonna happen and I intend to be there when they do. Me and my cameras."

"Put your cameras down long enough to eat, Hon." The waitress appeared silently and put a plate down in front of Vincent. It was covered by the biggest steak Amanda had ever seen, with two fried eggs and a plate of fries big enough for two. Amanda's meatloaf was swimming in gravy, just the way they used to serve it at Saint Agnes's and for several minutes the conversation stopped while they ate.

An hour and several cups of coffee later Amanda had learnt that Vincent's family had finally given in to his passion and stood him a grubsteak of photographic equipment and a Willys wagon - tough and rugged. He was starting to get a reputation, not that he was famous, but his shots had sold to a few newspapers magazines. Amanda stuck with the story about visiting her aunt and sidestepped the few questions he asked, though it was clear to Vincent that nothing in her story explained the sadness he'd seen in her. From that night on he avoided thinking too deeply about whether it was reluctance to get involved or just good manners that had stopped him from pressing the point at their first meeting.

Vincent paid for their meal against Amanda's protests and they left to find a motel, having agreed to travel northwest together for a while in the morning, and booked separate rooms. At five-thirty next morning Amanda was woken by Vincent quietly tapping on her window and fifteen minutes later they were ready to leave.

"Hey - no dress today?" Vincent asked, surprised at Amanda's jeans, blue shirt and tied-back hair, as he put her backpack into the back of the van and quietly closed the door.

She told him about the puddle, how she'd been splashed, and about the two hippies who'd picked her up, leaving out certain pieces that either weren't immediately relevant or that she didn't want to mention. Vincent started to piece things together, matching details.

At the end of the main street Vincent pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. "I want to get a shot of the town before we go. You never know when something newsworthy's going to happen in one of these places and it's good have a shot handy, just in case." He walked round to the back of the van and took out a pair of cameras as Amanda stepped out into the cool morning air. The road rose steadily to the west, in the direction they were heading. To the east the sky was turning pale as the sun rose behind a hill and she watched Vincent as he lined up a photograph looking back along the empty street. "Can you hold this for me?" he asked, passing her one of the cameras. She nodded and took it from him, amazed at how heavy it was, fascinated by the knobs and dials and delighted by the sculptural feel of the camera body in her hand. What a difference between that her Dad's box Brownie.

When he'd taken his shots she said "What do all these do? How does it work?"

He looked down at the camera and pointed to a dial. "That's the exposure - it sets the time that the shutter stays open. This one's the aperture - it controls the size of the hole that the light comes through onto the film. They both have a whole range of effects on the way the photograph turns out."

"How do you know..."

"Theory and experience. See..." he showed her the light meter he used, protected in a brown leather pouch. "I use the light meter to work out the exposure than I adjust the settings to get the sort of effect I want. The aperture and the exposure both control the amount of light that gets to the film but they do it in different ways. The smaller the aperture, the greater the depth of field - the more things stay in focus over a long distance. These numbers are called F stops and the bigger the number the smaller the aperture. If you..." He looked up at Amanda and grinned. "Sorry. More than you wanted to know?"

Amanda looked up from the camera, surprised. "No - really - I've always wanted to take photographs but I never had a camera. It's complicated, but I'd like to know more. Do you think I could...um..."

"What - take a shot? Sure - why not. Let me set it up for you." He opened the light meter and took a reading, explaining the settings to Amanda, then adjusted some of the settings on the camera and handed it to her. "This is the focus. When you're ready just push the shutter release here...like pulling the trigger of a gun, slowly and evenly."

She smiled. Photographs were art, and she'd pored over books in the library of Ansel Adams' work. Like any artist, he understood that it was all about light. Amanda had never been particularly good with a brush, her talent was more in the tactile arts, but here was a piece of professional artist's equipment in her hands She looked over her shoulder, thinking about the sky in the east, trying to work out where the sun was going to rise over the hill. She turned round to look down the main street, half closing her eyes so that the detail blurred, letting the shapes and the planes of the buildings form patterns. Vincent watched, intrigued, wondering what she was seeing. She crossed to the other side of the road and he followed, watching as she peered down at the image on the ground glass screen, looking back over her shoulder and back to the camera, moving a few steps to the left, then back to the right. Finally she lowered the camera.

Vincent looked puzzled. "What's up, nothing interesting to shoot?"

"Oh - no - it's just that, can we wait about..." she looked back over her shoulder. "Two or three minutes?"

"Sure, no hassle at all." He had no idea what she was talking about but he was happy to wait for a few minutes. She'd never held a camera? What was all this about? He looked down at his boots, not really thinking about anything when he heard her, or rather sensed that she'd tensed, and he looked up to see the first rays of light strike the hordings of the buildings in the street, the shadows harsh and stark in the slanted light. He watched Amanda as she started looking back down at the camera, making minute adjustments to the focus and holding her thumb gently over the shutter release, looking up, then down, then...

"Now," she breathed, pushing the release gently but firmly and smiling at the satisfying sensation of finely-made machinery responding to her touch. She looked up and grinned, then looked back at the scene in the main street. Vincent turned to look at what she'd photographed and gasped in astonishment. The starkness of the shadows was fading as the sun rose higher. He gently took the camera back and looked down at the screen, understanding what she'd captured - a moment of light and shadow that disappeared before his eyes.

He turned, his mouth open. "How did...how the hell...?"

She laughed. "Well, it's light, isn't it, like you said. The smaller the hole that the light comes through, the sharper the - what did you call it...the depth of field? I figured it had to work for the light source too - the sun. When it's just a tiny spot, when it's rising or setting, the shadows can be incredibly sharp if the sky's clear, but it only lasts for a few seconds. I loved learning about the way that painters used light but I was never much good at painting myself. But when you talked about that it made perfect sense and I could see how the great painters - Tintoretto was one of my favourites - understood exactly what you told me, but I guess they wouldn't have used the same words. I thought I'd see if my theory worked, and it did! Did you see the way those shadows..." Amanda was grinning with pleasure. "I'm sorry - I'm raving. But that was fun! Thanks! I hope I get to see the picture."

"Fun," he breathed. "You've got the eye! Man, it's something I still haven't got. I mean I've got the technique down, but I wouldn't have been able to do that. Are you serious - you've never done this before?"

They strolled back across the street the car and he carefully put the equipment back.

"No. I never have. My Dad's got one of those old Kodaks, but I never used it. I thought about it though. I loved looking at Ansel Adams' photographs in my school library."

He looked at her and shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. They climbed back in and he pulled out onto the road. They rode for several minutes in silence while Amanda's comfort level sank. She'd insulted him. Finally gathered enough courage to speak.

"Uh, Vincen...Vinny...I'm really sorry, I think that was very thoughtless of me. Maybe you'd better let me off here."

He brought the car to a stop an pulled off on the side of the road, then turned the motor off and turned to her.

"You want to get out?"

"No - but I..."

Vincent turned to look at her. "Look Amanda - I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but to be honest, I don't quite buy your story about your Aunt. It just doesn't add up, you know?"

Amanda felt her face turning red. "I...why..."

"No! Please," he interrupted." Let me finish. It's none of my business. But whatever the truth is, if you really do need to get to San Francisco that's fine, but if you're more - flexible - I could really use an assistant. I mean there are times when things are happening fast when it'd make the difference between the shot that wins a Pulitzer and nothing is just having someone to load the next roll of film. I couldn't pay much, but things are picking up. At first it'd just be, board a lodging, you know? I mean most of the time I camp out or sleep in the van but I mean we wouldn't be..."

Amanda's mind raced while Vincent kept on speaking, and she tried to listen to what he was saying while she thought about how to respond. A photographer's assistant? Maybe the chance to learn how to use those cameras? Travelling around the country, seeing all those places?

"...but enough to put some aside." He stopped. "And...well...maybe you could teach me how to do what you just did - back there."

**~o0o~**

_Dear Amanda,_

_The first week of my job was great - I mean really great. I was nervous at first but once I got the hang of things it was - great. I hope my English teacher doesn't find out that I used "great" three times in one paragraph. I'll start again._

_The first week of my job was very interesting and challenging. I was nervous at first but once I got the hang of things it was enjoyably stimulating. Is that better?_

_Mr Potter is such a good boss - he gave me an advance on my salary so that I could - wait - I'm getting ahead of myself._

_On Friday Mad Dog came into the store. He said that there was a new John Wayne movie on and that now I had a job I should take him. You know how much I like John Wayne, and that it's the only thing that MD and I agree about - anyway, I agreed. Mr Potter said that I should take MD and Mom out to dinner after the show and he gave me an advance so that I could get the tickets early._

_We went to the movie on Saturday afternoon but it wasn't what I expected. It wasn't a cowboy movie - it was about the Viet Nam war. It was the goriest movie I've ever seen. Mad Dog was yelling and whooping and I was sitting there getting sicker and sicker. I won't bother telling you the story except to say that it's about these guys who kidnap a Viet Cong general and, well, it doesn't matter. The thing is that it made me realise that this military school stuff is for real. It's not just the discipline, it's the real thing. I could end up going there - I'll be old enough to be drafted soon. The more the movie made these guys out to be heroes the worse I felt. Maybe I'm a coward. I don't know. But I know this - I don't have anything against Viet Nam and I'm damned if I want to go over there and fight in that war. I don't think I'm a coward. If someone wanted to hurt you I'd kill them with my bare hands no matter how big they were or what kind of weapon they had, but this - it's hard to explain. Maybe we can talk about it some time._

_Anyway, when the movie was over I felt sick to my stomach. MD was grinning and saying stuff like "See that, boy! That's what a real man is!" I won't tell you the other stuff he said. I was too tired to argue._

_I took them to a diner that Mister Potter said was good. I had Salisbury Steak, MD ordered meatloaf and Mom had fish. The food was good and it was cheaper than I thought it would be, but I could hardly eat. MD was still bouncing around and couldn't stop talking about the "gooks" and laughing about how those little "commie bastards" could ever hope to win against American fighting men. I bet it's really nothing like that._

_Anyway, I saved most of my first week's pay. Mom didn't like the movie, in fact I think she might have been thinking some of the same things that I was, though she wouldn't say it of course. You should have seen her, Amanda. She said that she hadn't been take out to dinner for years, and she started to cry when she said how proud she was to be taken out by me. I'm glad I did it._

_I hope you're OK. You know I've decided that I'm going to keep writing even though I don't know if you're getting my letters. Maybe you're getting them and you just can't write back. I don't know, but I think it's what you'd want me to do. Anyway, I promised._

_I love you Amanda. I miss you and I think about you all the time._

_Jake._

**~o0o~**

"Vincent, I..." Amanda choked on the words.

"Oh." _Damn. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "Look, I'm sorry. That was really dumb. I was just acting on the spur of the moment. I know how it must have sounded. I'll, um, drop you back at the Interstate. Unless you want to get out here of course, Or I could take you back to town." Vincent was blushing furiously and feeling like a complete idiot. The situation was ludicrous. He'd never picked up a girl in his life and now, completely innocently and without any ulterior motives at all, he'd just blurted out what sounded like the lamest pickup line in history. Oh man - this was one that deserved to be written in The Big Book of Stupidity. Well, there was nothing for it but to take his licks. He waited, for the slap in the face, the laugh, or the slam of the door.

"I'd love to."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm sorry. Good luck in California then."

Amanda suddenly realised that he'd been so convinced that she'd say no, that "no" was what he'd heard, and she clenched her teeth to keep from laughing. "I said I'd love to."

"Really?" 

"Yes."

"Oh man! What..." he laughed, unsuccessfully trying to hid his embarrassment. "I thought you said..."

"I know. But, uh, before you agree there's something that we have to talk about."

"Oh - yeah - of course! Look - I'm sorry Amanda - I know it must have sounded like I was trying to pick you up. But I'm not, really! I really do need an assistant. I've been thinking about it for weeks. Listen - like I said, I've got a tent and the back of the car's plenty big enough to sleep in. I mean separate arrangements - no funny stuff - strictly business. We could..."

"No, that's not what I mean. I know you weren't trying to pick me up. What I was talking about was..."

"Oh. Damn!" He slapped his forehead. "Of course! Money. Well, like I said, I couldn't pay you much until I sell a bit more regularly but I could manage, say $20 a week and you wouldn't need to pay for food or rooms or anything - you could save all of it if you wanted to. Does that..."

"Vincent - Vinny, Please - listen to me! I wasn't talking about money! There's a problem and I can't take the job unless you know about it and unless...unless...I can think about what I'm going to do when...when..."

She looked down, blushing herself this time, then looked back up at him. He waited, patiently, his eyes flicking unconsciously back and forth between hers. She took a breath and said, for the second time, "I'm pregnant."

_OhmygodwhatthefuckhaveIgoneandletmselfinforherefuckfuckfuck _"Pregnant...?"

Amanda turned to look out the window, unable to look even Vincent in the eye. "Yeah," she croaked, wondering if she'd ever be able to say it with the same conviction that let her make the decision to leave home.

"Uh, yeah. I, uh, I don't..."

Amanda sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you couldn't..." It hit her. No-one was going to hire a pregnant seventeen year old with no experience. Not unless she lied. And Willow had spotted it already. In another month it'd be obvious to anyone. 

_Oh God...so that was what it was about. That was what was tearing at her. No wonder. The poor kid! She's so smart too - how the hell did she let that happen? What sort of bastard would get a girl like this pregnant and leave her to - he must have left her. If she was heading to 'Frisco to meet him she wouldn't have said yes. Oh man... _She looked up and he saw her jaw clench as she fought back tears. _Damn you - you insensitive bastard._

"Amanda, I'm sorry. I...I didn't, I mean it must be... Why were you heading for San Francisco? Do you really have an Aunt there?"

Amanda wiped her eyes with her hand, and said quietly "No. I'd heard about the art community there - I want to be an artist, a potter or a sculptor, and I thought...I thought that maybe I could get a job, you know, as a waitress or something while I worked out what I could...do. But it..." her lip trembled and he saw her eyes fill with tears. "It wouldn't have worked. In another month it'll be obvious and no-one would give me a job then. I guess I wasn't very smart."

"Your parents? The father?" _Shit - did I say that? If those were options she would have taken them! She's not some street whore - she's not used to living rough._

Amanda looked away again. "No. It's a long story. I had to leave. I had to...I can't go back."

_I'm gonna regret this. _"Look - it doesn't make any difference to me. The job's still open if you want it. It's going to be a while yet before the baby arrives, right? There's time for you to think about what you want to do - what the best thing's going to be. If you want the job, it's yours."

Slowly she turned to face him.

"Are you...are you sure?"

"Sure? Yeah, of course I'm sure. Where else could I find someone who'd work cheap and who could teach me about light?"

Her expression didn't change. She looked at him with a directness that was so disarming he was afraid that he'd hurt or insulted her by his clumsy attempt to break the tension.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, just enough to dislodge a tear that ran down her cheek and touched the corner of her mouth as she smiled.

Vincent didn't know it at the time, and it wasn't until years later that the realisation struck him, but that was the precise moment that he fell in love with Amanda Phillips.

**~o0o~ ~o0o~ ~o0o~**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: Roger E Moore and Bootstrapper

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	5. Like a Diamond in the Sky

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 5: Like a Diamond in the Sky 

**~o0o~ ~o0o~ ~o0o~**

Mister Potter looked over Jake's shoulder. "Think you've got it figured out, Jake?"

Jake looked up at his boss from the instruction book he'd been poring over for the last hour. "Sure - it's pretty straightforward once you get the hang of it. It's like any other vehicle, whether it's a plane or a car; the idea's to get as much power and as little weight as possible. I think there are going to be two main sorts of customer - people who'll be buying basic starter kits - they'll mainly be parents buying them as birthday presents and things I guess, and the enthusiasts. The enthusiasts'll be older kids who are really getting into it, and they're going to want track components and car parts so they can build their own cars for competitions. And they'll pay for them."

Mister Potter took off his glasses and looked intently at Jake. "That's a pretty impressive analysis young feller. I really never thought of it like that. I just thought of them as models - kits to sell."

"You could think of them like that, but you'd be missing out on the best customers. Look..." He fished out a trade magazine from under a pile and thumbed through it for a particular article. "See - there are specialist parts makers springing up selling special tires, motor winding kits, all sorts of stuff. That wouldn't be happening if there wasn't already a market, and if we - if you - stocked some of them or got into an agency deal with them, you could, you know, get people around here more interested in it - make a market for it."

The older man was grinning. "Jake, you're talking like I was trying to build up a retail empire here! I'm just sell toys and models."

"Sure! But everyone had to start somewhere, didn't they?"

"I guess so," he laughed, his eyes twinkling with pleasure at his young protégé's enthusiasm. "So what do suggest I - _we_ - do, Jake."

"I could get on the phone and talk to some of those places - see what I could set up. We'd have to order some stuff at first I guess. The next thing I'd do would be to make up a new window display showing some of the cars and the accessories."

Jake's boss put his glasses back on and scratched his head. "Change the display, eh? You know it's been pretty much the same for a long time, Jake."

"Times change, Mister Potter. New trends. Once it was model trains, then planes, now it's slot cars. Who knows what it might be tomorrow? With all the stuff that's going on about the moon landing it'll probably be rockets. Who knows - maybe roller skates'll come back one day. But right now, it's slot cars."

"Okay, Jake - I'll tell you what. Get on the phone - do what you think's best, but don't spend any more than fifty dollars at first. Other than that, it's your project. Show me what you can do."

Jake's eyes lit up. "Fifty bucks - that'll be plenty to get some samples in and to give me an 'in' with them. Thanks Mister Potter!"

He gathered up the magazines and manuals and hurried out to the back room where there was a desk and a telephone. Mister Potter stared after his young assistant, shaking his head and feeling old. An hour later Jake came out clutching a sheet of paper dense with notes and figures.

"Okay - here's what I've done. I called West Coast Specialty Slots and ordered two sets of..."

Jake went over the details of the orders. None of it made much sense to Mister Potter, but the meticulous way that Jake had detailed the orders, and the total - $49.97 including shipping, was enough to convince him that at least he had no cause to worry about Jake's business acumen. If it didn't work, he'd only lost $49.97 - not inconsiderable, but it'd be worth it to see what happened.

"...and I'll stay back on Saturday after we close to change the window display. All the stuff should be here by then."

**~o0o~**

Amanda lay on her back, her eyes wide open. Inside the tent it was pitch black but outside, through the half-open flap, stars glimmered. She turned around to lie with her head outside tent, staring up at the sky. She'd never slept in a tent, outside in the open air. She smiled, thinking of the stories some of the kids at school had come back with from their camping holidays - rain, wind, how yucky it was. She took a deep breath, letting the delicious mix of earthy smells, linden and pine, flow through her and closed her eyes for a minute, concentrating, sensing the almost impalpable touch of the still night air on her face, then opened them again just in time to stifle a gasp as a tiny speck of cosmic dust carved a brilliant arc above her, leaving a fading epitaph of light across a group of stars. She traced its shape with her eyes. It made a picture.

_"See those stars over there, honey?"_

_"Yes, Daddy. Look - that one's bright red!"_

_"That's Betelgeuse."_

_"Beetle Juice? Hehe - Beetle Juice! What a funny name!"_

_"Look. If you imagine those three bright stars are a belt, with a sword hanging down from them, Betelgeuse is his shoulder...that's the constellation called Orion, the hunter. And over there - those are his two hunting dogs."_

_"I can't see them, but I can see Orion!"_

_"Some of the star pictures - they're called constellations - are easier to see than others. There are stories about most of them."_

_"Will you tell me the stories?"_

_"If you like! Maybe each time we go out to look at the stars I could tell you the story of one of the constellations."_

_"Is there a story about Orion?"_

_"Oh yes. Orion was a great hunter. He fell in love with a beautiful princess, but the princess's father, the king, didn't want his daughter to marry Orion. He told that if he wanted to marry her he'd have to do all sorts of difficult jobs, but every time Orion finished one of the jobs, the king would give him another harder one to do. Eventually Orion gave up and realised that the king would never let him marry the princess."_

_"The king was mean!"_

_"Maybe. Perhaps he just wanted the best for his daughter. Daddies do, you know."_

_"No. He was mean. What happened to Orion?"_

_"Orion had a magic lion skin that protected him from harm. The pictures of Orion usually show him with the lion skin draped over his shoulder. Look - if you use your imagination you can see!"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"The only part of Orion that wasn't covered by the lion skin was his feet. He died when a scorpion stung him on the foot."_

_"Poor Orion!"_

_"The king of the gods, Zeus, felt sorry for him so he put him in the sky with his faithful dogs so that everyone would know what a mighty hunter he'd been. Zeus put the scorpion in the sky too, but he put it as far away from Orion as he could so that it could never hurt him again."_

_"Where's the scorpion?"_

_"You can't see it tonight. We'd have to come out later to see the scorpion - past your bedtime."  
  
_She guessed that it was around two o'clock. The moon hadn't risen, or it had set, but she could see the outline of the Willys by starlight. The back doors were open and a faint rustle came from inside as Vincent turned over in his sleep. 

For the first time since she left home her mind was clear, not consumed with thoughts of tomorrow. Her hand traced the now obvious curve of her stomach, almost a reflex these days, like a tongue probing a broken tooth. It was impossible not to think about Jake, to wonder what he was doing, whether he was awake. Did he see that meteor? Does he ever think about her and wonder?

She pulled the blanket up tight under her neck, not because she was cold, but to feel its roughness.

Amanda knew the constellations. She knew their stories. Orion. Taurus. Pisces. Gemini. Scorpius.

She looked up. The meteor trail had faded, but she knew the constellation that marked its passing.

Aquarius.

**~o0o~**

"Hey Ma - listen to what Jake says..."

_So Mister Potter gave me a fifty dollar bonus. A whole week's pay! Can you imagine how good that was, Willy? After all of Mad Dog's years of telling me how useless I am, and all of Ellenbogen's bullying - to be told what a great job I've done and to be given a whole week's pay as a bonus?_

Willy left out the next sentence. _There's only one thing in my life that felt better than that. _She'd ask him what Jake was talking about.

Willy's mother stopped peeling the potato she was holding and looked out through he kitchen window. "I'm glad Jake did so good at that store! That poor boy. He deserves somethin' nice. What's he going to do with all that money he's made?"

"He's gonna buy a locket for Amanda. He told me about it - it sounds real pretty."

"You know, I'm gonna bake him some cookies!" She turned, putting down the potato and wiping her hands on the floral print apron she was wearing. "You can take them to him next week"

"Uh, that's real nice of you, Ma, and he'd be happy to know you were thinkin' about him, but Jake's...uh...allergic to cookies."

"Oh - silly me! I forgot - you told me that. I wish you could bring Jake home sometime, Willy."

"Listen to this..."

_Give your Ma my love, Willy. You're a lucky guy. Maybe I'll get to meet her some time. Maybe when we've left Buxton Ridge Hilda and Amanda and I could all come and visit._

Willy's mother wiped her eye on he corner of her apron. "I don't think there's anything I'd like more'n that. How can that terrible father of his be so cruel to him? How can any father treat a son like that?"

"Wish I knew, Ma."

"He must be looking forward to seein' that girl of his. Has she written to him yet?"

"No. Ain't been nothin' at all."

"I surely hope everything's alright. I just bet it'd bust Jake up real bad if it was more than, you know, like you said, her folks bein' Cath'lic and all."

"Yeah. I hope so too, Ma."

And Willy did hope, but deep down he didn't believe it. There were so many ways she could get round it if she'd wanted to. No, it was something much more complicated than that. Question was, what was gonna happen in two weeks when they met up at Gilberts. Or, more likely, didn't meet up at Gilbert's.

**~o0o~**

"Who's dead?"

Vincent was standing at the back of the Willys loading the camera equipment back into the metal locker. He turned, puzzled by her question. She didn't know?

"Kennedy. Bobby Kennedy - you didn't know?"

"No. I...didn't pay much attention to that stuff. How did..."

"Assassination. You heard about Doctor King?"

He took another lens from her and turned back to the business of packing everything away properly.

"Oh - yeah."

"My Lai?"

"Uh, no." Amanda blushed.

"Eldridge Cleaver? The DEA? HAIR? The Spring Mobilisation?"

He turned again, just catching the way her hair moved, and he realised that she'd been shaking her head.

"You never were a hippy, were you?" 

"No."

There was that sad look again. It might have been the shape of her face, but it wasn't always that. There was real sadness underneath it, and it was heartbreaking. He wanted so badly to hug her, but he knew that would be the end of it. Her message was clear. She wasn't interested. It didn't change the way he felt though.

"Are you okay, Amanda?"

She looked at that ground and gently shook her head.

"You did well," he said said gently.

She looked up. "Did I? Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "You stayed cool. You did a perfect job on the cameras. You had exactly what I needed ready just when I needed it. Those are some of the best shots I've ever taken. I couldn't have done it without you."

"I was so scared." Looking back at the ground again.

The Chicago Democratic Convention had been a riot. Ten thousand demonstrators, eleven thousand police, thousands of US Army troops, thousands more National Guardsmen. Vincent turned back to the Willys, carefully putting the equipment back in the padded storage bins. 

"Someone's going to die soon. I want to be there when it happens."

"...?"

Sensing her shock he stood quickly, hitting his head on the door surround. "Shit! That's not what I meant! Look, all those people - they knew what they were facing - they knew the danger. How many of them do you suppose were willing to face that for what they believed in?"

"I don't know. I...a lot of them I guess."

"Yeah. Thousands of people, willing to face more than one armed person each, standing up for what the believe in. We documented that today. But someone's going to die - maybe more than one. Soon. That has to be documented too. Right?"

It had started to make sense.

By the end of the next week she'd taken to wearing a peace sign - just a cheap hand-made copper one on a plain black leather thong that she'd bought from a hippie stall, at a market where she'd bought some loose cotton dresses that felt comfortable over her growing figure. She was wearing her hair out. He'd bought her a pair of hand made leather sandals. She was still wearing a bra and her breasts were just starting to feel heavier, responding to her changing body chemistry.

She'd worried a little about the sandals, probably would have preferred if he hadn't bought them for her. She was being silly, she knew, but it was just a little...uncomfortable. She'd thought of refusing, but he was so nice, and he never gave any sign that there was anything behind it but friendship, and the fact that he was just a nice guy.

**~o0o~**

"Oh man! That's beautiful, Jake!" 

"Thanks Willy." Jake closed the little case with a snap.

"But you said you were gonna get her a locket. A silver one with gold filigree. I remember you sayin'..."

_"Can I help you...sir?" _

_Jake ignored the disdain in the store clerk's voice. "That locket in the window. I'd like to look at it please."_

_The clerk raised her eyes heavenward, knowing that as soon as she told him how much it was he was going to be embarrassed and she was going to have wasted her time. She sidled out from behind the counter and went to the window, unlocking the sliding glass panel that protected the display from "customers"._

_While he waited, Jake looked down through the glass top of the counter..._

_The clerk came back with the locket and walked back behind the counter. She held out her hand with the locket draped over it. "You know, Sir, this is really quite an expensive piece. It's sterling silver with eighteen carat gold chasing and..."_

_"I don't want it."_

_The clerk appealed to heaven again. Why did she bother. Little boys with grandiose ideas. She turned to put the locket back in the window when Jake stopped her._

_"I want that." _

_He pointed at the display under that counter. The clerk smiled. Grandiose ideas were one thing, but this was positively funny. She was going to have some fun at this silly boy's expense. _

_"Certainly, Sir." She put the locket down and slowly flipped through the keys on the keyring that hung from her belt, making a show of unlocking the sliding door on the back of the cabinet. She reached in and brought out the tray containing the item he'd been pointing at._

"You should have seen her face, Willy!" Jake's eyes sparkled. "She was playing me, you know. She was thinking that I was going to faint when she told me how much it was. 'A fine choice, sir,' she says. You should have heard her, Willy. The honey was just dripping from her tongue. 'Half carat, South African stone, flawless.'"

Willy chuckled at Jake's imitation of the snooty clerk, but he realised that what he'd been looking at wasn't just pretty - it was more than that. "Uh, Jake, just how much _did_ it cost?"

"I'll get to that. I had to have it, Willy - for once in my life I could afford the best. I had the whole roll in my pocket and there was only one reason why I took that job, but even so I didn't know whether I was going to be able to afford it. So I plucked up my courage and said 'I'll take it.' I could tell she was really looking forward to the look on my face. 'Certainly Sir,' she said. 'That will be $499.99.'"

Willy's eyes widened. That was more money than he'd ever seen in one place at one time, and it was all in that tiny little pebble.

Jake was having a hard time controlling himself and, like yawning, it was contagious. Willy was picturing the prissy clerk, her smarmy face just waiting for Jake's embarrassment. "You should have seen the look when I pulled out the roll and started counting off five hundred! I could almost hear her shitting herself!"

They both burst out laughing, and were still wiping the tears from their eyes when a familiar voice interrupted.

"Glad to see you're so happy to be back, boys."

They spun round and snapped to attention. Corporal Ellenbogen sneered at Jake.

"Decided not to shave this morning, Morgendorffer? Still in holiday mode are we?"

Jake's hand went to his face, feeling the stubble. "No, Sir. I shaved this morning."

"What with, son? A strand of limp spaghetti?"

Willy stifled a chuckle.

"No, Sir. A new razor blade, Corporal."

Ellenbogen looked puzzled. "Are you serious son? You really did shave this morning?"

"Sir, yes Sir."

"The why doesn't it look like it?"

"I don't know, Sir. It always looks like this."

Corporal Ellenbogen bent down, picked up a twig from the ground and handed it to Jake. "Show me how you shave, Morgendorffer."

Jake took the twig and glanced towards Willy, mentally shrugging his shoulders. He held the twig as he always held his razor, handle down, and mimicked dragging the blade down over his his cheeks and chin.

"Didn't your father ever teach you to shave, Morgendorffer?"

"No sir. No, he didn't."

Corporal Ellenbogen tutted quietly and held out his hand for the twig, taking it as Jake handed it back to him.

"Run your hand over your cheek, boy. Up and down. What do you feel?"

Jake did as he was bid. "Uh, stubble, Sir?"

"What about it, Morgendorffer?"

Jake continued rubbing his cheek, then stopped. "It's...pricklier...in one direction - down - I mean up."

"Exactly. The hair grows downwards, not straight out. So if you shave like this -" he dragged the 'razor' down over his cheek - "the blade just slides over the hair instead of cutting it. If you do this -" he turned the twig over and pulled it upwards across his cheek "it cuts the hair off clean, see."

Jake was genuinely interested. It made perfect sense once someone explained it. "Yes, Sir! I get it!"

"Good. Now get back to barracks and try again, Morgendorffer, then report to my office at 1100 hours. I expect to see a face as smooth as a baby's ass."

"Yes, Sir."

The corporal strode off. Jake and Willy walked off past the munitions hut towards their barracks. "I'll be damned!" Jake muttered.

Willy clapped Jake on the shoulder. "At last he didn't say he wanted you to come back with a face that looks like _your_ ass! I mean why would he want you to look like _him_?"

"Or smell like him!"

They burst out laughing again.

*** * ***

The bustle of a new year, getting their new class assignments, the sense of accomplishment that Jake's cohort felt in being the seniors made the time slip by for everyone except Jake, and for him every day felt the weight of the months he'd gone without seeing Amanda - and the months he'd gone without hearing from her. Every possible reason, every possible situation played itself out in wide screen and Technicolor in Jake's mind, sometimes threatening to unleash all the demons of hell, sometimes planting him smack in Heaven itself, with choirs of angels singing - each one with her face.

The small and precious ring box never left him. Every day it nestled in the bottom of his pocket wrapped in a handkerchief, and every night it lay under his pillow gripped tightly in his hand, the last thing he felt before he finally drifted off. Sometimes during the long afternoon classes his hand would steal into his pocket, just to make sure it was still there and, if he was lucky, to trigger memories of those sweetest of dreams. A tiny chunk of carbon, essentially valueless, inedible, too small to be any use for throwing at things, cut and polished so that it could return light with fire, capture a young man's dreams in its bright prism.

But Saturday finally arrived in slow motion, dripping like honey from a comb. The only thing moving fast was Jake's heart, threatening to explode as the bus crept with infuriating slowness towards Ggiillbbeerrttss Mmaalltt Sshhoopp. Jake's concentration was focussed like a laser burning holes in the day, Willy's voice a low rumble, thunder on a distant horizon.

The bus stopped and disgorged its passengers.

Willy grabbed Jake's arm as they closed in on Gilberts. "Yyoouu wwaaiitt oouuttssiiddee, mmaann. Ii'll ggoo iinn aanndd ggeett uuss aa sseeaatt."

Slowly the world returned to normal, though Jake was too distracted to realise that what Willy had said didn't make any sense. He waited, following instructions, pacing nervously back and forth until it slowly dawned on him that Willy should have come out by now. He put his hand into his pocket and touched the box for luck, gathered all the courage he possessed, and walked into the coolness of the malt shop.

**~o0o~**

It was the smell of coffee that woke her.

Amanda had gone back to sleep looking up at the stars and she lay as she'd done early that morning, half in and half out of the tent. She opened her eyes slowly, so slowly that he didn't notice and she watched him watching her, sitting motionless, coffee cup cradled in his hands steaming in the cool morning air, staring.

She lay still, trying not to smile and wondering how long it would be before he noticed that she was looking back at him, hoping that he'd made enough coffee for two. Summer's heat had already started to give way to Autumn's "mists and mellow fruitfulness" and the still morning air held a hint of moisture, intensifying the scents of the surrounding forest. Not far to the east, the Pacific Ocean lent just a hint of salt to the air, and there was just a trace of smoke from the fire he'd made to make the coffee.

She remembered the first time she'd worried about whether he was getting the wrong idea. She'd been trying to show him how she'd been able to concentrate on the shapes in the photograph she'd taken. When it had been processed and printed it had come out exactly the way she'd wanted and he was eager to understand and to learn.

_"See - if you scrunch your eyes up the details disappear and you just see the shapes."_

_He bent his head down over the camera, looking at what she could see in the ground glass screen. His face brushed against her and he put his arm around her waist to steady himself. He was concentrating too hard to see her blush, feeling worried. _Please. Not that_._

_She was imagining it of course. There was nothing there. There couldn't be. She couldn't bear the thought of having to leave again._

When he finally noticed her looking at him he started.

"Sorry," she grinned. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He smiled back at her, and this time it was Vincent's turn to blush. "I, uh, didn't mean..."

"That coffee smells great. Is there enough for another cup?" She asked as she turned over onto her stomach..

Vincent picked up the coffee pot and poured a steaming mug, adding a generous splash of milk and the two sugars he knew she liked, stirred it and brought it over to her, squatting on his haunches. 

Two weeks ago things had taken an irrevocable turn, though she hadn't realised it at first. And back then, no-one had heard of the butterfly effect - the chaos theory that postulated that the flutter of a butterfly's wings in Africa could set off a train of events that caused a hurricane in Florida three weeks later.

**_Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man, yeah,   
An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can ?   
Honey, you know I did! And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough,   
But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough._**

_"Stop - please!"_

_Vincent hit the brakes and pulled off to the side of the road._

_"What...?"_

_"Ssshhhh!" She put her fingers to her lips._

**_I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,   
Take another little piece of my heart now, baby,   
Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah. Hey!   
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby, yeah.   
You know you got it if it makes you feel good,   
Oh yes indeed. All right!_**

_She sat, hanging off every raw, rasping word until the song ended._

_"That was Janis Joplin with Big Brother and the Holding Company, off their album Cheap Thrills. That album's on its way to selling a million copies in its first month, folks, and remember, Janis and the Company are playing at the Palace of Fine Arts Festival in San Francisco on August 30 and September 1! Now here's a word from Gramma Maybelle's..."_

_Amanda reached forward and turned the radio off. A tide of anger was rising in her, triggered by the song. A piece of her heart. Yeah. How many pieces?_

_Vincent was staring at her - the song had obviously hit a raw nerve or two, and he waited for a few minutes, respecting her need to be alone with whatever the song had done to her, then he started the car and pulled back onto the road._

_"You a fan of Janis?" he asked._

_"I am now," she responded quietly._

_Forty minutes later he turned right at a major intersection. Amanda looked back at the sign as they passed it and turned to him. "You took the wrong turn - this isn't the way to..."_

_"I know," he said. "I changed my mind."_

_In three days they arrived in San Francisco._

She took the cup and closed her eyes as the coffee snaked its way to her stomach. "Oh, yeah! That's the best coffee I've ever had!"

"Mr Folger's best," he grinned. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm. Like a log."

"It's not the coffee, it's...this." He looked up and swept his gaze across the mountain scenery. "It just makes things more...real. Stuff always tastes better out here."

The butterfly had flapped its wings the day that song came on the radio.

_He'd told her to wait in the car. Ten minutes later he came back and sat in the driver's seat, a grin on his face. He started the car and drove out into the traffic, still grinning._

_She smiled. "What are you grinning about?"_

_He just reached into one of the pockets in his vest and pulled out two pieces of cardboard and handed them to her._

_Tickets to the concert._

_It was the first rock concert she'd ever been to and the experience thrilled her. Janis Joplin had been beyond her imaginings, the raw energy, the harshness, the depth of emotion surpassed anything she could have believed possible and, watching her perform Piece of My Heart, the anger rose again. She'd been tearing pieces off her heart and throwing them at Jake - or Jake's memory - while their child had been growing inside her, while she left her school and her family; while she threw herself on the mercy of the road; while she took up with a photographer who'd rescued her, befriended her and treated her...as if...as if..._

_It was time to stop. Jake was gone. _

**_Deep down in your heart I said you know that it ain't right,   
Never never never never never never hear me when I cry at night.   
Honey, I cry all the time!_**

_No more. Time to take it back._

"Hungry?" he asked.

She stretched, closing her eyes, feeling good. "Mm hmm."

He stood up and walked over to the Willys and started rummaging around in the back.

Amanda slipped back inside the tent, closed the flap and dressed. She hadn't been able to to wear her favourite dress, the crushed velvet one that Willow had given her, for six weeks and she'd been reluctant to give it up. It would have been perfect for the cool morning. She pulled on a long skirt with a fringe and slipped on a deep maroon Indian cotton top, then the leather sandals that he'd bought her. By the time she crawled out of the small tent Vincent was busy at the fire and the delicious smell of bacon and eggs made her stomach growl in anticipation. The aversion to bacon that she'd had earlier on in the pregnancy had left her as quickly as it had come.

She walked over the the Willys and poured a cup of water from the jerry can, took her toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag she kept them in and walked over to the edge of the clearing to brush her teeth. When she'd finished and put things back in their proper place - Vincent had told her that it had taken a month of living out of the van before he realised that you just had to keep things tidy in such a limited space or chaos overtook you - she turned to look at him, crouching by the fire and thought about where she might be today if they hadn't met, if he hadn't been so good to her.

She walked quietly up and crouched next to him, looking at breakfast sizzling in the pan. He turned and smiled. "Nearly ready."

She put an arm around his waist and gently pulled herself toward him, holding her cheek against his.

Vincent turned, amazed.

"Maybe," she said.

"Uh...maybe what?"

"Maybe it's this..." she looked around at their surroundings, then back to him. "Maybe it's something else."

"What?"

She reached out and grabbed his vest, pulling him sharply towards her so that he overbalanced and fell. She caught him as he landed, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

**~o0o~**

Jake's eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Gilbert's was crowded and it took a minute for him to recognise Willy's form leaning on the table at a booth towards the back. The heads of the people in the booth in front blocked his view, but just as he started moving Willy turned toward him, catching sight of Jake. Willy's stricken face was enough for Jake to know immediately that things would never be the same again. He wasn't sure why, but his legs kept moving forward even as his brain was screaming **_STOP_**. If he stopped right here, before he could see the booth clearly, she'd always be right there waiting for him. 

But all too soon he could see the lone occupant of the booth: Hilda. Cold certainty crept into Jake's heart.

Hilda turned to him, her face a caricature of misery. When he finally managed to speak past the lump in his throat the words were ash in his mouth. "She's not coming, is she?"

Willy guided Jake into the seat opposite Hilda and he slid in beside her.

"She found someone else? Someone who really deserved her, didn't she?"

Willy slowly shook his head, trying to speak. Hilda reached out and gently took his hand in both of hers.

"Jake, Amanda never came back to school. No-one knows what happened or where she is."

Of all the nightmares that had haunted Jake's nights and days for the last few months, this hadn't been one of them.

"Not...there? She didn't...?"

"She just didn't come back from Summer vacation."

"Did...have...?"

"I tried, honey." She squeezed Jake's hand, feeling it trembling. "I asked everyone. No-one heard anything. Not that she had any friends or anything..."

"Wait! She did have a friend!" Jake blurted out. "That nun...Sister..."

"Sister Assumpta. Yeah. They were friends." Hilda looked even more downcast, if that was possible. Seeing Jake's wild eyes, grasping at this final straw, she swallowed, forcing herself to go on. "She can't help, honey..."

"She must be able to help! Amanda told me! She said Sister Assumpta was her best friend! She must know what happened!"

"Maybe, but she ain't telling. She's gone too. She left the order. Mother Superior told us at assembly on the first day back. She read us a note that Sister Assumpta asked her to read to us. Said that she had new - I dunno - new...stuff to do or something. I can't remember. Anyway, she's gone and she ain't comin' back." She looked at the emptiness in Jake's eyes. "I'm real sorry, hon."

"Oh."

Jake was utterly defeated. Willy and Hilda turned to each other, both hoping that the other would say something. 

Jake stood up. "I'd better go," he said quietly.

Willy stood up as if to stop him, but realised that there was nothing he could do and sat down again, watching Jake walk out.

**~o0o~**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: Brandon League, Bootstrapper, and to Renfield for encouragement.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	6. Will Power

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 6: Will Power 

**~o0o~ ~o0o~**

Amanda leaned over and rested her head on Vincent's shoulder as they stopped at the traffic lights at the corner of Haight and Ashbury. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he turned quickly and kissed her on the top of her head. She smiled and sighed as the lights turned green. Turning left into Haight, he pulled up and they walked around the corner to Clayton.

"This is it," he smiled, squeezing her hand and leading her though the door of a three storey building. Above the door a sign read **Happening House**.

The middle aged woman behind the counter looked at Amanda and smiled. "Can I guess?"

Amanda smiled back. "Amanda Phillips."

"Thought so. Take a seat, Amanda. Dave won't be long."

They sat down opposite a brightly-coloured sign on the wall opposite. 

**"We believe that health care is a right, not a privilege."  
**_Dr David E. Smith, Founder, the Haight Ashbury Free Clinic, 1967_

A few minutes later a door opened and a short, middle-aged man, his dark hair greying slightly at the temples looked out. "Amanda?" He grinned, looking at her stomach. "Yeah - I guess that's you. Come in."

Vincent squeezed her hand again, feeling her return it as she stood nervously and walked toward the open door, which closed behind her as went in. Vincent stood and walked back over to the counter. "Can I pay for the visit?"

The receptionist looked up from her work. "You can make a donation if you like. But you don't have to - like the sign says, it's free."

"Well, I can afford to pay. I'd like to help." He took a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She smiled and took the twenty. "Thank you!"

"Do you mind if I take some photographs? I'm a freelance photographer and I'm shooting the San Francisco scene and some shots of the Free Clinic would be great."

"If it feels good," she said happily. "Most of our patients aren't as...cheery as your lady. She's pretty."

"Thanks," Vincent smiled, turning to take a camera out of his backpack. "Not that I had anything to do with it. Being pretty I mean. I mean I didn't..."

She laughed. "It's okay. Like I said, it's nice to have someone coming in for something that's not drug-related."

He was still taking shots when the door opened and Amanda came out, followed by Doctor Smith.

"Doctor Smith? Can I get a shot of you next to the sign?" he asked.

"Sure. How about getting Amanda in too?" he said, giving Vincent a perfect shot of himself and a very pregnant Amanda on either side of the famous sign.

"So - what's the verdict?" Vincent asked as they walked slowly back to the car.

"Great. Everything's perfect. Just a couple of weeks to go he thinks."

Vincent stopped. "Then why so...unhappy?" Her face held the same sweet sadness it always did, but it showed in her voice too.

Amanda paused. "I'm not unhappy. I mean it's good that everything's okay."

He waited, knowing that she'd tell him if she wanted to. He reached out and held her hand.

"It was embarrassing. Laying on the couch with my feet in those stirrups..."

Vincent flushed as complex feelings fought within him. "Oh. Yeah. I can imagine - I mean I guess I can't. But it was...okay?"

"Oh, yeah. He was really nice, he made me feel relaxed, and there was a nurse there. It's just that...no-one's ever..."

"Well, Jake..." She'd told him the story. He still couldn't help feeling resentful of Jake but he accepted her explanation, such as it was, and the fact that she refused to blame him even though she still seemed a little angry.

"It was dark. We didn't even...it just...happened."

Vincent put his arms around her, holding her head gently against him. They'd kissed. That was all. "It's okay. Everything's going well. That's all that matters," he said, knowing it to be the truth but leaving his feelings out of it.

"That's not all," she said quietly, her head resting against him. "I'm scared."

He tightened his hold just a little. "It'll be fine."

Amanda looked up into his eyes, words and more passing silently between them.

The moment was interrupted by a clear voice. "Peace and love, children!"

Amanda and Vincent started at the intrusion and looked up to see a tall, thin hippie wearing jeans, beads, and nothing else, holding out a thin brown arm, on the end of which was a thin brown hand holding a bright red flower. He nodded, grinning, as if to say "take it".

Amanda gingerly reached out and took it. The hippie bowed theatrically, pirouetted, and danced off down the street. They looked at each other. "Hippies," Vincent tutted, taking the flower and putting it in her hair. They laughed, turning and walking hand in hand to the car. He held the door open, thinking how beautiful she looked with that flower against her yellow hair and the blue of the lapis lazuli beads she always wore, while she climbed up and sat heavily in the seat.

"Ugh! I've got weeks of this?"

"Think about that next time you feel scared having it," he said, immediately giving himself a well-aimed mental kick in the pants for being so thoughtless, but she chuckled and he sighed with relief as he walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. He pulled out and turned right into Clayton, past the clinic, and left onto Page, then pulled in again a block short of Golden Gate Park.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Uh huh. Both of us!" Amanda said, patting her stomach.

"Sit tight then, you two." 

He got out and trotted round the front of the car. She watched as he went into a store with a sign saying Far Fetched Foods, returning a few minutes later with two paper bags. He drove off and turned left along Stanyon, skirting the eastern end of Golden Gate Park where he parked opposite Waller Street and helped her out. They walked into the park and sat down on a bench overlooking a children's playground where groups of kids were laughing and squealing in the warm late October sunshine.

Amanda's eyes widened and she giggled, reaching out to put his hand on her stomach. He grinned at her, feeling a kick. "He wants to play with the other kids."

"He?"

"Or she."

"Do you care?"

Amanda thought for a minute. "No. Yes. Well, a girl would be nice. But so would a boy. No. I don't care."

Vincent stared at the wistful expression on her face and understood for the first time what people meant when they talked about pregnant women "glowing". That trace of sadness in her eyes that he'd thought of as a permanent feature from the first time they'd met was entirely gone.

He handed her one of the paper bags. She reached in and took out an odd-looking roll, made of flat bread filled with finely chopped salad, some of which was identifiably tomato. She sniffed it uncertainly as he watched her, smiling. It smelled good and she took a tentative bite, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the taste hit.

"Mmmmm. That's sooooo goood! What is it?"

"Um, tabouleh and felafel roll with sweet chilli sauce. I think it's parsley, tomato, wheat - some other stuff, but it sounded good. Anyway, you didn't die, so I guess it's safe."

She punched him playfully in the shoulder and they sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the sun, the view, and the food.

She finished first and was just about to wipe her hands on the paper napkin from the bag when she heard a voice behind her.

"Amanda?"

~o0o~

Corporal Andrew Jackson Macarthur Ellenbogen Sr. sat on the wooden swivel chair behind his desk wearily contemplating the year ahead. The morning sun streamed in through the grey Venetian blinds, the late Autumn sunlight casting bright stripes across his desk. He was getting too old for this. Now that his son had graduated _magna cum laude_ there was only one more obligation he had to fulfil, and retirement was sounding better every day.

He took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, then reached over and picked up the day's stack of correspondence and shuffled through it tossing aside the bills, when one caught his attention. He picked up an ornate civil war sword letter opener and slit the envelope neatly along the top, then unfolded the letter, and read...

_Ellenbogen, _

_I want to thank you for the fine job you've done with Jake over the last few years. I'd been worrying over his future, but after this summer I think he's finally turning into a man I can be proud of. It's a weight off my mind. I want you to know the debt you felt you owed me is payed in full, my friend. You've done a helluva job with him and I can finally rest easy about his future._

Corporal Ellenbogen stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet. Thumbing through the "M"s he pulled out Jake's file. There was no doubt about it, the boy was improving. In fact in the last couple of weeks he'd thrown himself into his work with such a vengeance that some of his teachers had actually raised some concerns. They said that he seemed almost angry, but that didn't sound much like Jacob. He was a strange kid alright, but it looked as if some of that stern discipline was finally paying off. He was even looking a little more - focussed. He put the file back in the cabinet and picked up the letter.

_I probably won't be around much longer, Ellenbogen. At last he knows enough now to look after his mother when I'm gone. I hope she'll finally get over that damned mollycoddling. Ever since we lost little Mikey she's petted on Jake. I never thought it was good for the boy, but now he's starting to act like a man. From what he had to say for himself this Summer he's got a girl now, and if he doesn't screw up, maybe even a wife waiting for him when he comes back from teaching those dirty sonavabitchin' commies what's what._

_Those damn doctors wanted to put me in the hospital. What the hell for? They said it's inoperable, so what's the goddamn point? I'll tell you what the goddamn point is - they want to squeeze the last drop of money out of me before I die is the point. To hell with them -- those bastards aren't gonna get a cent. My only regret is that I'm not gonna see the faces on those clowns from the insurance company. I'm insured up to the yin yang and it's gonna bust their asses to pay out._

_Don't say anything about this to the boy. It's gonna take more than some candyass disease like cancer to clean Mad Dog Morgendorffer's clock and there's no point in giving him an excuse to whine - he's done enough of that for both of us ._

_Well, thanks again, Ellenbogen. We used to say "see you in Hell", but I don't think I will. We've been there and come back once already._

_Mad Dog_

The Corporal sat for a moment, remembering the time when he and Mad Dog had been younger, and that Summer night in France just north of Argentan, when he'd caught caught the piece of shrapnel that had taken off his thumb before burying itself half an inch from his heart. If Mad Dog hadn't turned back for him...

This was no way for that brave bastard to go. But that's the way it was.

A girl eh? So that's what the AWOL incident had been about. And that explained the way the boy had been acting recently. He'd flubbed it with that girl. Pity.

He folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope then he sat back down at the desk, took a piece of Buxton Ridge letterhead out of the drawer and started to write.

~o0o~

Amanda turned, then leaped up off the bench and ran, as best she could, around to the back, squealing with delight.

"Willow! Willow! Coyote!"

She threw her arms around Willow's neck, making little chirping noises, hugging her and swaying back and forth.

"Woah, babe! You don't want to go squeezing that baby out now!" Willow stood back, her hands on Amanda's shoulders, laughing.

Amanda turned to Vincent, her eyes sparkling. "This is Willow and Coyote! You know - I told you about them!"

Vincent stood up, smiling. "Only about a hundred times." Turning to Willow he said "I don't know what you did, but you made a big impression on this lady." He walked over to Amanda and put his arm around her ample waist.

"She blew our minds too, man," answered Coyote. "She's one far out chick. We figured we'd never see her again but we were only talking about her yesterday. We were worried about her, you know? It could have been a serious bummer for her but it looks as if the karma's all good!"

"Yeah," added Willow, smiling at Amanda. "We hoped we might see you here, babe, but we didn't really think we would. Coyote spotted your hair from behind but it was the beads that gave it away. So what happened? Who's this debonair dude?"

They sat down on the grass and Amanda told them everything that had happened since they'd dropped her off months ago, Vincent adding a comment from time to time. When they got to the part about the Democratic convention Coyote mentioned that the Chronicle had run some pictures of the confrontation. Vincent couldn't help a little smile when he described one particular shot and Amanda squeaked "Oh my God! That was one of Vincent's!", to Willow's and Coyote's expressions of admiration. Amanda squeezed him, feeling proud and happier than she'd been since that night so long ago.

They started talking about the convention and Vincent told them how he wanted to document the changes that were happening in America. Coyote chimed in about the politics and Vincent found he had more than just a willing listener but someone who shared most of his passions and thoughts about the stupendous times they were living through. Soon they were talking animatedly like long-lost brothers about every subject from Zen Buddhism to the relative merits of Kombi vans and Willys jeeps. Amanda and Willow grinned at each other, exchanging a silent "men!" Willow nodded towards the playground, and Amanda took the hint, climbing with difficulty to her feet and walking slowly off with her down the path towards the children's playground.

"Cool guy, babe. I'd say you lucked out."

Amanda turned to her friend as they walked slowly. "Sometimes I lay awake at night and think what it would have been like if he hadn't come along. I...God, I just don't know."

As they passed a green wooden bench Willow stopped and sat down. Amanda gratefully sat down beside her and they looked back to where Vincent and Coyote were gesticulating and laughing, obviously enjoying themselves.

"Guy like that wouldn't have a hard time finding a girl." She turned back to the playground in front of them. "He's good looking, obviously not stuck for a dollar. Smart, thoughtful. Not the kind of guy who'd stick around with a pregnant chick for five months without good reason." She paused. "Looks suspiciously like love to me. Man's got good taste."

Amanda turned to see a gentle smirk on Willow's face. Once again, she'd cut through it all, gone straight to the center, and Amanda felt the same admiration for her that she had all that time ago, remembering the sense of loss when they'd dropped her off and she'd watched them drive away. She didn't want to lose them again. She threw her arms around Willow and hugged her again. Willow laughed, returning the hug. "I missed you too, babe. I knew we'd catch up again sooner or later. So how do you feel?" She looked down at Amanda's stomach.

"A little scared. No, a lot scared. And I keep thinking how much more scared I'd be if...you know. But physically, I feel good - at least I feel healthy. I've just been for a checkup at the free clinic."

"Ah - Doctor Dave, eh? Cool. Everything's okay?"

"Uh huh. Fine. Two or three weeks to go."

"How does your photographer feel about it all?"

Amanda looked blank.

"Babe?"

"I've never asked him." Her voice was quiet and she looked lost.

"You've never asked him?"

"No." The realisation struck her like a blow. "He's...done so much...been so good...and I've never even..." Her eyes filled with tears.

Willow stared for a second, then stood up and took her hand. "Come on, babe, you can't leave them alone for too long you know." She looked back towards the men. "There's no telling what they'll get up to." She led Amanda back along the path to where Vincent and Coyote were deep in conversation.

"Hey, Coyote - these cool people are coming back to our pad for dinner!"

Amanda shot Willow a surprised glance.

"Far out! Man," enthused Coyote. "You haven't lived until you've feasted on Willow's chick pea casserole! Come on - let's beat the bitumen. Where are you parked, Vinny?"

Vincent looked up at Amanda questioningly, but Willow had turned her around and started hurrying her toward the path. "You go with Vincent, Coyote - show him the way. We'll take the Kombi."

"Cool. Come on, Vinny. I want to check out the Willys. They're bitchin' wheels, man."

"What was that all about?" Amanda asked as Willow led her as fast as she could back to the Kombi. "I mean, it's great, but..."

"About? It's not about anything, babe. Chick pea casserole perhaps. You cook?"

"Uh, not very well. I can make bacon and eggs."

Willow looked at her with horror in her eyes. "You would allow the flesh of a dead animal to enter the sacred temple of your body?"

Amanda blushed furiously, but Willow laughed. "Had you going there for a minute. It's okay - we're not vegetarians, but we don't tend to eat a lot of meat. They say that in 'Nam, the Viet Cong can smell us coming a mile away because we eat meat. Uncle Ho's children are all Buddhists - vegetarians, so they don't smell. All that perfumed soap and artificial crap we use doesn't help either."

They reached the Kombi and Willow helped Amanda to climb up into the seat and closed the door. She looked around at the back of the van while Willow climbed into the driver's side. It was just as she remembered it on that day five months ago. It felt as if years had passed in some ways, but it was as vivid as yesterday. It was weird how Willow and Coyote had become so important to her in those few short hours. She'd needed friends so badly then - that was probably it - but she still felt as if there was something special between them. Coyote said that they'd felt it too. Maybe it was...what was it? Karma? The clatter of the Kombi's motor brought her out of her reverie and she turned to Willow.

"I have to ask him."

"Yeah," Willow sighed, turning to glance at Amanda. "There'll be time, babe."

Amanda wasn't sure what Willow meant but she accepted it at face value. Karma. They didn't talk much on the short drive, and soon they stopped in front of an old white clapboard house with a flight of stairs on the outside. The Willys was already parked and Vincent and Coyote were waiting on the sidewalk and Vincent opened the Kombi door to help Amanda out. They followed Willow and Coyote up the stairs and walked into a bright and airy apartment, converted from the top floor of the big old house. The furnishings were all second hand, most of them improvised, but the effect was welcoming and comfortable - even artistic. Bookshelves made from planks resting on cinder blocks held an eclectic assortment of novels, magazines and reference books and, on the top shelf, candles and small brass ornaments. Bright, if worn, rugs were scattered between overstuffed old chairs and beanbags and a coffee table covered with a dark green and red cotton throw added to the sense of relaxed disorder. The only new thing in the room was an Empire turntable, sitting on top of an impressive Marantz amplifier between a pair of JBL speakers. Beside the stereo were half a dozen plastic milk crates full of records. Coyote rummaged among them and, grinning, found what he wanted, carefully lifted it out of its sleeve and gently put it on the turntable, lifting the arm across and setting it down on the lead-in track.

**_I want you to come on, come on, come on..._**

He turned and grinned. "Sit yourselves down," motioning toward the beanbags. The sound was rich and full, almost like being at the concert, and a thrill ran through Amanda as she saw Janis on stage under the coloured spots, the excitement. She wished that she could sit down and enjoy it, but other things took precedence.

**_Take it, take another little piece of my heart now..._**

"Uh, where's..." Amanda started.

"Oh, down here, babe! Pregnant chicks' bladders - no room in 'em at all." Willow laughed, steering Amanda towards the bathroom. When she came back a few minutes later Willow had put four tiny cups on the coffee table and was pouring a gluggy brown liquid into them from an odd-looking copper pot with a wooden handle. She passed one to Amanda as she sat down in the comfortable chair. Amanda took it, recognising the smell, and she looked quizzically at Willow..

"Mud," Willow said.

"Turkish coffee. Never had it?" Vincent asked. "Try it!"

Amanda took a tentative sip, and closed her eyes in delight as the hot, strong, syrup-sweet coffee hit her taste buds. They laughed good-naturedly when she made the mistake of all first-time Turkish coffee drinkers and ended up with a mouthful of the muddy, powdery coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup.

That afternoon Amanda stepped into a different world. They sat and talked, listened to records, drank Turkish coffee, and got to know each other better. From time to time she'd tune out and just relax, feeling comfortable and that, for the first time in her life, she belonged. She'd been an unpopular and outcast schoolkid; a slightly bewildered and inexpert, though very willing, lover; a pregnant daughter rejected by her family; a fugitive and desperate hitchhiker; an employee - perhaps friend - perhaps more - perhaps she'd soon know; soon a mother (_Me? A mother?_); but now, for the first time, just...Amanda...whatever Amanda was, whatever Amanda could become. _Like Willow_ she thought. _Like it was when I was sitting at the wheel making the clay take on the shapes I saw in my head. Like it was when I worked with glazes and kilns and Sis...Carolyne...said I could be good. Like it was that night..._

Coyote took an incense stick out of a packet, stuck it into a small brass holder and lit it, then blew it out letting the sweet scented smoke fill the room. A different world.

At six o'clock Willow led her into the kitchen and they talked while strange and exotic dishes - lentil dhal, chick pea casserole, slices of Estonian black bread with hummus, took shape under her skilled hands like clay under Amanda's. Coyote opened a bottle of white zinfandel, making a gentle joke out of saying that he'd offer Amanda a glass if her baby was old enough to drink.

After dinner Vincent went downstairs to the car and brought back some of his photography collection. They talked about his plans to stick around in San Francisco for a while, documenting the movement. Willow saw the way he looked over at Amanda as he said it and she understood that it was also to make sure that they wouldn't be on the road when the baby was born.

Coyote missed it. "We're heading off to Mount Shasta tomorrow for the Leonids," he said, and Amanda sat up, her eyes wide.

"Leonids?" Vincent asked.

"Meteor shower!" said Amanda excitedly. "It comes this time every year. I've always wanted to see it! Dad used to tell me about it but you need to be somewhere really dark to see them at their best. When they're good you can see hundreds in an hour!"

"Leonids though?"

"Because they seem to come from the direction of the constellation of Leo the lion. It's as if they're all coming from a single point in the lion's head - it's called the Radiant. They're not of course, it's just that they stay in about the same place in the Earth's orbit and the planet runs into them at the same place every year."

"Hey - that was some school you went to, babe!" remarked Willow.

Amanda leaned forward. "Please - can we come? We've got plenty of camping gear! I've always wanted to see them!"

Willow and Coyote looked at each other, then at Vincent, concern in their faces.

"Uh, gee, I..." Vincent saw the child in Amanda's eyes and his heart melted. He was saved by Willow.

"We'd love you to come, babe, but don't you think it might be a little risky? I mean you're in a...delicate condition."

Amanda turned to Vincent. "Please? Please Vincent - I saw the doctor today - he said everything's fine. There's weeks to go yet! It'll be fine! Please?"

"Weeell, I, uh, I guess so." He turned to Willow and Coyote. "Do you think...? How far is it?"

"It's an easy day's drive north. We'll only be out for a couple of nights. The shower's at two a.m. on Wednesday morning, so I guess it'll be okay. We can be back by Thursday or Friday."

"Okay then - if you think it'll be okay."

Amanda squealed with delight and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you!" Coyote and Willow grinned, seeing the smile on Vincent's face.

"Well, if you're coming, maybe we'd better get an early night and an early start. We're gonna have to stop at lots of gas stations along the way." Willow said, smirking.

Vincent laughed, standing and helping Amanda up. "We'd better get going. Where do you want to meet?"

"Going? You're not going anywhere, man," exclaimed Coyote. "We've got a blow-up mattress and plenty of blankets. Crash here and we can all leave bright and early." 

"Uh - are you sure?"

"Wouldn't have it any othe way," Willow answered.

Willow yawned and put her arm around Coyote's waist. "Time for us to crash, too, lover. It's late and we need an early start."

"But it's only nine ugh!" Coyote grunted as Willow elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh - yeah - late." He pulled the mattress and a foot pump out of the closet. In ten minutes the mattress was blown up and sheets, blankets and pillows set up on the floor.

"Well, goodnight, guys. Is there anything you need?"

"No," smiled Amanda, full of admiration. This is what Willow had meant earlier when she'd said that there'd be plenty of time. Leonids or not, she'd planned this. Though their relationship had changed, she and Vincent had still alternated between the van and the tent, neither having the confidence to take things a step further. Amanda realised then that Willow had hit the mark more closely than she knew. She was uncertain about how Vincent felt about the fact the she was carrying Jake's baby and she hadn't dared to make any assumptions. Vincent, though she didn't know it, hadn't been able to bring himself to assume that, although Amanda was obviously and consciously putting distance between herself and Jake, that she was ready or even willing to let someone take his place. 

The four of them hugged. Amanda looked Willow in the eyes and quietly said "Thanks." Willow just smiled, and she and Coyote went to their bedroom, closing the door behind them. 

Amanda and Vincent stood, staring at the closed door. Finally, He turned to see her looking up at him.

* * *

"Vincent?"

"Hmmm?" He was half asleep, lying behind her with his arm draped over her, her hand holding his.

"How do you feel about...this?" She moved his hand down onto her stomach and he rose out of the warm miasma of half-sleep. She rolled over to face him, still holding his hand.

He looked at her. "Feel?"

"Mm hmm." The butterflies fluttered. She felt his hand gently squeeze hers and they settled just a little. "How do you feel about...it?"

He opened his eyes, understanding exactly what she was asking him. "Do you mean does it matter?"

"Uh huh."

He sat up, looking down at her. "Yes. It matters." His voice was quiet and, in the dark, she couldn't see his face.

The butterflies took flight.

"If it hadn't been for him - or her - you wouldn't have been hitching. You wouldn't have been walking in front of that bar. You wouldn't have come to work with me." He lay back down again, looking into her eyes. "And you wouldn't be here now. Or at least, I wouldn't be here now." He put his arm around her and gently kissed her. "And there's nowhere else in the universe I want to be."

She smiled and closed her eyes. Karma.

~o0o~

Jake Morgendorffer had had a bad night.

He lay awake, his mind racing, gripped by feelings of anger and despair.

During the day it sustained him. It let him attack his schoolwork - forced him to - because it quietened the demons. But at night they came back. Sometimes when his muttering or whimpering got too loud Willy would shake him or gently prod him from the bunk below before he woke the others. But he didn't always get in soon enough and it became another excuse for the taunts, another cause for anger and despair, another reminder, and he'd ask in his anger and desperation, W_hy, old man? Why did you make me like this?_

At first he'd refused to believe that Amanda wasn't coming back. She was on vacation, she'd be back any day. They'd had an accident, something had delayed them. She'd be back. But as the days and weeks passed the reality became impossible to escape and the demons came back. And the words that they whispered in his mind were true words. His anger was only partly for what his father was; it was more for what his father had made him. No wonder Amanda had left him. She was right to go. He saw his life stretching ahead. Everyone he cared for would leave him once they knew, once they saw what Mad Dog saw.

Two weeks after the failed meeting at Gilberts Willy had hassled, in his own desperation for his friend, for Jake to telephone her. He had.

_"Hello?"_

_"Uh, can I speak to Amanda please?"_

_"Amanda?"_

_"Yes. Your daughter?"_

_"I have no daughter," the voice coolly said before hanging up abruptly._

_He turned to Willy. "He hung up. It must have been the wrong number."_

_"Wrong number? Did you dial it right?"_

_"You saw me, man!"_

_"Yeah. What did he say?"_

_"He said he hasn't got a daughter."_

_"Shit."_

_"She gave me the wrong number, Willy."_

* * *

They sat in the noisy mess at lunchtime, Willy eating hungrily as he always did, still somehow unable to believe how good the food was at Buxton Ridge and thinking that if that was what Army chow was like it'd do just fine until he and Hilda set up house. Jake was muttering to himself, pecking half-heartedly at his plate of beans and franks.

"You gonna eat them beans, Jakey?"

"Nah." Jake had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. "I don't need to fart any more than I already do." He pushed the plate over to Willy. 

"Thanks buddy." He looked up at Jake, knowing what the answer was going to be, and asked for the sake of form, "How are you feelin'? You didn't sleep again last night."

"I feel like crap. I _am_ crap."

"Aw, man..." Willy had heard it a hundred times, but it still hurt him to see his buddy like this. "It ain't always gonna be like this, Jakey. I know it hurts now, man, but my Paw always said that time heals all wounds."

"I wish time wounded all heels. I wish time'd wound Mad Dog. I wish it'd cut him open and tear his guts out like a string of fucking sausages."

Willy Johanssen was genuinely shocked. How could someone wish that on their father? How could Jake feel like that when he'd give anything to have his father back? "Jake," he said quietly, "you don't mean that, man."

Jake turned and Willy saw the full force of hatred in his eyes. His voice was calm, but underneath Willy could feel the loathing. "You couldn't understand, Willy. He's ruined my life. I could go back over every week of it and for every one I could tell you something that bastard did to me. There he was telling me what a loser I was, how useless, how his son needed to be a man, when what he really wanted was some damned brainless copy, a perfect toy soldier molded in his image. Whenever I needed his help he couldn't be bothered, I'd fall down and it didn't mean anything to him. Why can't you be a man, Jake? Why are you such an idiot, Jake? My whole DAMNED life that was ALL he had to say when I needed him. Well no more. I'm done with the bastard. I'm sick to death of him and his macho gung ho bullshit. From this moment on I don't give two shits whether he lives or dies. I haven't got the words, Willy. He's...he's..."

Jake felt a firm hand on his shoulder and turned around to look up into the stern face of Corporal Ellenbogen.

"He's dead, Jacob."

**~o0o~ ~o0o~**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers and supporters: Malevolent Turtle, Renfield, Bootstrapper, Martin J Pollard, and Parker-man.

**Plagiarism:** "You would allow the flesh of a dead animal to enter the sacred temple of your body?" is lifted directly from Gilbert Shelton's The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers. Used without permission, but with thanks.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	7. The Howling

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 7: The Howling 

**~o0o~ ~o0o~**

Someone watching from far, far away would have seen a small blue-green planet orbiting a middle-sized yellow star. 

A comet, which the planet's inhabitants called Tempel-Tuttle, traced its own elliptical orbit around the star every thirty-three years. On one of its visits it had crossed the plane of the planet's orbit leaving behind it a trail of fine dust, impossibly ancient leftovers from the formation of the star and its attendant planets - a tenuous cosmic cobweb. And like a cobweb, it was periodically swept by the planet as it followed its ordained orbit around the star and passed through the comet's leftovers. Whenever the two cosmic dancers met they gave anyone who was in the right place at the right time a brief but spectacular display of fireworks as the planet's atmosphere slammed through the trail of primordial dust bunnies at a little more than 67,000 miles per hour.

As Vincent and Amanda drove north behind the Kombi on a cool Autumn morning, the Earth and Tempel-Tuttle's cobweb were less than twenty-four hours from their annual pas de deux.. The air was cool and the windows were wound down as if the two were inviting the world to come in and share the trip with them.

Vincent reached forward and turned on the radio.

_...with high winds forecast for tonight. And now, here's The Turtles, with "Elenor"._

"Oh cool! I love this song!" Vincent turned up the volume and sang along at the top of his voice, replacing 'Elenor' with 'A-man-da'.

_You've got a thing about you,  
I just can't live without you,  
I really want you A-man-da_ _near me_

Amanda laughed and joined in, though she had to break up 'Vincent' into longer syllables to make it fit.

_Your looks intoxicate me,  
Even though your folks hate me,  
There's no one like you Vi-i-ncent really_

As the chorus hit they sang louder. He glanced across, his eyes sparkling, then looked back at the road, grinning and matching her volume.

_A-man-da/Vi-i-ncent gee I think you're swell,  
And you really do me well,  
You're my pride and joy etcetera  
A-man-da/Vi-i-ncent can I take the time  
To ask you to speak your mind  
Tell me that you love me better_

_I really think you're groovy  
Let's go out to a movie   
What do you say now A-man-da/Vi-i-ncent can we?_

_They'll turn the lights way down low,  
Maybe we won't watch the show,  
I think I love you A-man-da/Vi-i-ncent love me_

They left the rest of the song to The Turtles as Vincent put his arm around her and she snuggled up to him as they drove on.

That morning Amanda had noticed that the baby had moved in the night, sitting lower down somehow. _Getting more comfortable_ she'd thought, imagining how cramped it must be in there. It was a long drive, and three times Vincent flashed his lights at the Kombi in a prearranged signal for them to pull into the next gas station.

Finally they reached the cabin that Willow and Coyote had rented for a few dollars from the park service. It was basic, no more than four walls and a roof with a fireplace at one end, a wooden table and two bench seats, and two wooden bunks. The roof beams were exposed, but it was better than a tent and the location was worth more than the best five-star hotel, high up on a foothill with tall timber all around the clearing that had been made for the cabin. The nearest town was more than ten miles back and away from town lights that the sky would be dark - perfect for meteor watching. Amanda sat on a bench while the others brought things in from the cars, putting air mattresses on the bunks and bringing in wood for a fire. They were high enough for it to be noticeably cooler - with any luck it would be cold tonight and the sky would be free of warm-night haze.

When everything had been brought in Coyote opened a cooler and broke out some beers and a bottle of Coke for Amanda. They sat outside on log seats around a picnic table, drinking, chatting, and soaking up the setting. To the north-west the snow-covered bulk of Mount Shasta rose sparkling white tinged with pink in the late afternoon sun. Vincent fetched a camera out of the Willys and he and Coyote strolled off down a trail that led through the trees to a small lake that they'd noticed on the map. A stiff breeze had come up by the time they got back three quarters of an hour later and the sun was well down behind Sheep Rock a mile behind the cabin. Amanda and Willow had gone back inside out of the wind. 

"Man," said Coyote as he pulled a poncho out of a box, "it's outa sight! The mountain was just changing colours every minute while the sun set. Vinny got some shots of it reflected in the lake!"

"Cool," smiled Willow. "We'll check it out tomorrow. You guys make a fire and we'll get some food happenin', then we'll get an early night I think." She walked over to a box and laughed, pulling out an alarm clock. "I'll set it for one-thirty so we can get up in plenty of time for the show to start."

After dinner they sat around talking and enjoying the fire and listening to the wind whistle through the gaps in the windows. Vincent got up and walked to the door, feeling it push back against him as a cold wind blew in. He came back a minute later. "Damn - it's getting cold and there are clouds. It'd be a major bummer if it clouded over." Amanda's heart sank. She'd been looking forward to this so much and, sensing her disappointment, Vincent walked round the table and put his arm round her. "It'll probably be fine. This is just an evening wind off the mountain. When things cool down it'll stop and clear up."

Amanda took the flashlight and went outside to the outhouse before she went to bed. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected. The wind was strong and cold, but the clouds were scattered and scudding quickly across a velvet sky. The air was crystal clear and the stars shone brightly between the clouds and she heard the wind wailing in the trees as she sat, thinking. When she came out Vincent was setting up a tripod. He stopped and looked up at her. "Okay?" he asked.

"Great. I wouldn't mind an inside bathroom, but other than that it's beautiful." She looked up at the sky. "Do you think you'll be able to get some photographs?"

"Sure. I've loaded with fast film. As long as it stays clear it'll be fine. The wind could be a problem if it shakes the camera."

"Maybe it'll stop, like you said."

He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "As long as you're here I don't care if it blows us all the way to Kansas, Dorothy." She hugged him and laughed, and they went back inside.

* * *

When the alarm when off at half-past one Willow was already up and had stoked the fire to a cheery blaze but it was still cold and the wind howled in the trees outiside. They dressed as warmly as they could though they hadn't bothered to bring winter clothes. Vincent wrapped a blanket around Amanda and they stepped outside, expecting the worst.

The wind had picked up during the night but the sky was still mercifully clear. The lion rode high and within seconds a bright streak flashed from its head to the treetops, provoking a an involuntary "ahh" from the four watchers. Vincent went inside and came back a minute later with a camera which he screwed to the tripod head and a cable release for the shutter. They all moved back around the tripod and Coyote spread a blanket on the ground. They lay down in a line, Amanda spreading her blanket over them, and they lay back, their arms around each other, staring up as the sky exploded above them. Every few minutes a particularly bright meteor flashed above them to breathed 'wow's and 'far out's. Amanda felt a sharp little pain low across her back. "Shouldn't have had so much of that spicy food last night!" she said, and they laughed and hugged each other tighter.

Though the meteor display was a hundred miles above their heads, in their minds they imagined the screams and explosions of fireworks, and the sound of Amanda's voice above the low moan of the wind in the trees broke the spell. "You know," she said, looking up at the sky. "I think if it's a girl...Jaqueline Star Mor...er...Phillips..." She paused, and they waited. "It won't have its father's last name. I just realised that...it won't have a father." Her voice was quiet and sad, and she felt Willow hug her a little tighter.

"Yes it will."

It was Vincent.

"Jaqueline Star Lane. You know, I like the sound of that," he murmured.

Coyote smiled, feeling rather than hearing a little sigh from Willow as she turned to him, sharing in the moment. The two couples kissed while the sky fell in burning embers above them, and for the first time the things Amanda had lost over the last year didn't matter at all.

* * *

They sat at the table in the flickering light of a kerosene lamp, Vincent and Amanda staring into each other's eyes.

"I don't think they saw much past that first shooting star," Willow remarked to Coyote, _sotto voce_.

"Yeah - the were more interested in the stars in their eyes than the ones in the sky." returned Coyote.

"I guess they'll make their own fireworks soon enough."

"I thought Vinny was about to launch a rocket." Coyote grinned, warming to the task at hand but Amanda giggled, stopping the flow of bad puns.

"Cut it out you two!" 

"Ah - welcome back. We thought we'd lost you."

Amanda ignored Willow and turned back to Vincent. "If we want to do it before the baby's born we're going to have to find someone to marry us fast."

"I thought you were going to marry each other." said Coyote, looking surprised.

Vincent laughed, but Coyote shook his head. "I'm serious, man. Getting married is about making a commitment to each other. No one can _marry you_ - you marry each other. I mean it's cool to have someone say some words and someone to share it with, but in the end it's between the two of you and the universe. Anyone can say the words - they're just words. Marriage is deeper than words. You get married in your hearts. Anything else is just window dressing."

Amanda felt the same stab of admiration that she'd felt for Willow. What Coyote had said was contrary to everything she'd been brought up to believe, that marriage was a sacrament ordained by God, that only a Priest could deliver a sacrament. But in her heart she knew that, for her, he was right. She turned and stared at Vincent, seeing everything she felt returned in his eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

* * *

Amanda lay back in the bathtub, staring up at the familiar off-white ceiling and the pink glass lampshade that always had a little brown dot in the centre where the water condensed, trickled down, then evaporated to leave a stain. It was nice, comforting. She wished it was little warmer. The wind howled outside and the bathwater was tepid. She thought about getting out of the tub and going back to her bedroom, snuggling down in her nice warm bed and falling asleep to the sounds of the television in the lounge room or her mother pottering around in the kitchen. 

Suddenly the bathtub started shrinking, getting shorter, pushing against her neck and back. She struggled, trying to get out, but the tub trapped her and it was hurting...she groaned as the pain across her back got worse...shrinking...squeezing...

She woke, breathing heavily, lying in a puddle of luke-warm water.

**~o0o~**

_Michael Donovan Morgendorffer passed away on Thursday, after losing a lengthy battle with cancer. He was a decorated veteran, awarded the Silver Star for the rescue of an injured comrade in the Second World War. He is preceded in death by his parents Austin Jacob and Quincey Mae Morgendorffer, a brother Darren Lee Morgendorffer and a son Michael Donovan Morgendorffer Jr. He is survived by his loving wife Ruth Ann and his son Jacob._

Corporal Ellenbogen folded the newspaper and laid it on the seat beside him. He glanced across at Jake, who'd been staring silently out of the window into the darkness for the whole trip.

Listening to Jacob's angry words about his father in the mess had made him lose his self-control and he was deeply ashamed of the way he'd broken the news of Mad Dog's death to Jacob. It was a small betrayal - Mad Dog himself probably would have approved - but he wasn't Mad Dog and Jacob wasn't his son. What was the boy thinking? His face was blank. He'd tried talking, but Jacob's had been monosyllabic, not much more than grunts. He could understand why Mad Dog hadn't been able to relate to Jacob. The boy was...closed to him, completely unlike his own son. He thought about how Mad Dog would have wanted Jacob to be like Andy Junior. Now _there_ was a son. But Jacob was a son too, the son of a man who he owed his life to. Now that Mad Dog was gone at least some of the responsibility for Jacob passed to him, no matter what Mad Dog had said. He was tempted to tell the boy to snap out of it, to take it like a man, but somehow he couldn't.

He went back to thinking about the eulogy that he'd deliver at the funeral while Jake continued to stare out at the darkened landscape slipping by.

**~o0o~**

Through all she'd experienced, all she'd felt, all the torture of deciding in one sleepless night that her child was more important than her parents, her school...her life...through all the imagined pain and loneliness, nothing had prepared her for the abject terror that stabbed through Amanda now.

The tough membrane that had encapsulated her baby for nine months had burst. The warm, protective fluid that had surrounded it, had buoyed it up, filled its lungs, shielded it from the bumps and shocks, had run out of the birth canal and onto the airbed. The muscular womb that had been its home had started to contract like the bath in her dream, gently at first, but later it would contract violently - with enough force, as incautious doctors and midwives had found to their grief, to break the bones of anyone trying the help and getting a finger caught in a contraction..

She stood up, feeling the warm amniotic fluid running down her legs, and she held Vincent's arm as he lay asleep in the top bunk, and she squeezed. The first light of dawn dripped in through the cabin windows and the first things he saw when he opened his eyes were hers, and sleep fled. In that instant another contraction started and she winced, not yet with pain, but soon.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, seeing the news in her eyes. "It's started."

Amanda nodded.

Vincent threw off the sleeping bag that covered him, swung his feet over the edge of the bunk, and leaped down. His left foot hit the floor in a puddle and slipped out from under him. He grabbed the bedpost and caught himself before he fell but the noise woke Willow and Coyote. "The baby's on its way," he said, turning to grab his clothes from the floor, then realising that Amanda was still standing, watching him. He turned and went to hug her, but half stopped, not knowing whether he should, so he held her gently and felt her arms grasp him, shaking slightly. "It's okay," he whispered in her ear, stroking her matted hair, feeling as if he was telling her a gigantic lie.

"Come on, babe," Willow said quietly, unwrapping Amanda's arms from Vincent and taking her hands, "sit on the..." she looked at the wet mattress, "...seat," leading her over to the table. She went back and grabbed the sleeping bag off Vincent's bunk and wrapped it round Amanda's shoulders against the cold morning air. She dampened a washcloth and gave it to Amanda with a towel so she could clean herself off, then went to get some dry underwear and a dress for her to wear.

Coyote was collecting Amanda's things and throwing them into her bag. "Get your stuff together man, I'll take this out to the car. Get her into town - there's bound to be a doctor there. We'll get the rest of the crap into the Kombi and follow you." He lifted the bag and forced open the door against the wind, more like a gale now, but instead of going out he stood there in the doorway.

Willow turned, puzzled, and went to join him. "Oh shit," she whispered, inaudible over the wind.

"What's wrong?" Vincent half-ran to the door. The track that led from the clearing around the cabin into the forest was blocked by a pine that had fallen in the night. Cushioned by the trees around it and masked by the sound of the wind, the fall hadn't woken them. The trunk lay at an angle, propped a couple of feet off the track by branches that had caught in the trees on the other side. Even from the cabin they could see that they weren't going to get out that way.

"Vincent?"

He turned to see panic on Amanda's face and walked back to the door. "It's okay," he said, putting an arm around her and sounding much calmer than he felt. "A tree's blown down over the track, that's all. We'll be able to get round it. I'll go and check it out."

He tugged on his jeans and a shirt and shoes and went outside. The clearing ended a couple of hundred feet in front of the cabin and the fallen tree was another hundred feet or so past that. The trees and underbrush were thick - there was no way that they'd be able to drive straight round. He started trotting along the edge of the clearing looking for spaces that he could get through. There were a couple of likely paths but they all closed off without leading back to the main track. Finally he ended up back where he started from and a rising sense of panic made him run to where the tree lay across the track, knowing that there was no way in hell that he could move it, but desperate to do something. He ran back to the cabin and put his head round the door. "Coyote," he said, beckoning Coyote to join him outside.

They walked down the track. "How's it look, man?" Coyote yelled over the roar of the wind.

"Bad. I couldn't find any way round."

"Did you...?"

"I went all the way round the clearing. Twice. There's nothing. They cut the track in and cleared the space but they didn't make any other tracks out - none you could drive a car through."

"Let's check out the tree. Maybe if we could get a rope round it we could use the cars to..." but by that time he could see that the size of the tree and the way it was wedged between the others meant that there was no way they'd be able to drag it, even if they had rope, which they didn't.

"Yeah," Vincent said, answering Coyote's unspoken thought.. "You saw from the lake yesterday, there's nothing around - no campgrounds, nothing closer than the town ten miles back. We didn't pass anyone on the way in - there's no-one around at this time of year. I think we're fucked, man."

Coyote heard the stress in Vincent's voice. "The rangers'll be in. They'll be checking the tracks for fallen trees after the windstorm. They'll get here."

"Yeah. After the windstorm. Not during the windstorm. I don't think we've got that long, man. What the fuck are we going to do?" Coyote could hear a note of panic creeping into Vincent's voice.

"Easy, man. Look - we can't afford to lose it. The worst thing we can do is freak out." He gripped Vincent's shoulder tightly in his hand. "Don't let her down, man. She needs us."

Vincent took a deep breath. "Yeah. Thanks, man." He stood still, collecting the pieces of himself that had started to fray.

"It happens all the time, right? People have babies all the time. I read that before the civil war a pregnant slave working in the cotton fields'd just go behind a tree, squat down, have the kid, and go back to work."

Vincent thought about the fear he'd seen in Amanda's eyes, her body shaking in his arms. She wasn't going to go behind a tree, pop out this kid and then go back to work. If it ever had been like that, and he doubted that it had, it wasn't going to be like that now. They were alone and she was probably going to have the baby in the cabin. But she wasn't alone. He was here, and he was going to be everything that she needed. Besides - Willow was there and she was one of those people who just seemed to know what to do. He was too involved in that thought to hear her come up behind them.

"So what's the deal?"

He turned, staring past her, to see Amanda standing in the doorway, one hand on the door frame and the other on her stomach. "Come on," he croaked, putting his arms behind their backs and starting walk back towards her. "I'll tell you inside," he said, though he could tell immediately he looked at her face that Amanda already knew. Another contraction started just as they went inside and she winced again.

Willow heard Amanda say "We can't get out can we?" She heard Vincent say, so kindly, his voice so calm, "No, we can't get out. The tree's blocking the road and there's no way round it. But the Park Service will be checking the tracks for fallen trees. They'll be her any time. We'll be okay." She saw him hold her and she saw Amanda put her arms around him, but she also saw that Amanda was looking over Vincent's shoulder straight at her, straight into her eyes, soundlessly pleading, and an icy hand reached into her chest and squeezed.

Willow had cultivated the Earth Mother image for years and she was good at it. Most of it was natural. She was a smart, confident woman and she knew what a woman could be. Vincent was so busy taking photographs of the hippie revolution that he completely missed the fact that one of the most revolutionary results of it was right there in front of him. The change from fifties Barbie Doll Bobby Soxer to braless, self-contained, confident woman - the equal of any man and more than most - someone who did what she did because it was _her_ decision, not her husband's or her father's or anyone else. Amanda had felt it immediately she'd met Willow. She hadn't put it into words, but that's what it had been, and had wanted to be like her.

In a way, Willow was a throwbacks to an earlier age when women had been the keepers of the lore, the wise women, the nurturers and healers. Part of their wisdom was to let men believe that they were in charge most, and most of the time it worked. But then men had started burning them, pretending to be wise themselves, calling them witches, and it screwed things for a few hundred years. Now the balance was being restored.

Willow knew what she had to do; she just didn't have a clue how to do it. _Well_, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat, _fake it till you make it. Be what you have to be_. 

"Vinny, take Amanda to the outhouse please," then turning to Amanda she said "The longer you wait the harder it's gonna be, babe. Get as empty as you can - know what I mean?"

Amanda blushed, nodding, as Vincent led her outside.

"Dog Man, you're gonna have to help. Best thing we can do know is keep her mind off it as much as we can. Distract her."

Coyote nodded, looking at Willow and knowing what she was feeling. He took her hand. "You can do this."

"No, I can't." Willow said quietly. "But I have to make them think I can. I'm not gonna lie, but we're just gonna do what we need to."

He saw her facade fall for a second, only the second time he'd seen her drop it, and he kissed her on the forehead. "So what kind of distraction are you thinking of?"

"I was thinking..."

Vincent walked back in. "Can you really do this?" he asked, getting straight to the point. 

"Guess I won't know till I try, right?" 

Vincent paused. "Have you done...anything like this before?"

"When I was fourteen my cat had kittens. I watched, but unless she's gonna lick the baby clean and gnaw her way through the umbilical cord I doubt that's going to be of much help."

Vincent looked a little green around the gills and Willow realised that too much honesty might not be the best policy. "It's gonna be okay, hon." She took both his hands in hers." But she's gonna need everything we've got, and when she gets back in here you're gonna help Coyote keep her distracted. I'll probably have work to do."

He looked at her, puzzled. "How am I going to do that?"

"You're gonna marry her. Now get back out there and wait for her."

**~o0o~**

"...a fine man, a man who risked his life to save a comrade's, a man who wanted the very best for his family - the best that he knew how to give." Corporal Ellenbogen turned to the flag-draped coffin, snapped to attention, and saluted, holding it while a bugler played Taps.

When the bugler finished he marched up to the coffin and stood at one end opposite another veteran in uniform. Together they lifted the flag from the coffin and folded it smartly in military fashion. The Corporal walked up to Jake who was sitting next to his mother at the front of the twenty or so veterans who had assembled at the graveside. As he'd been trained, Jake, wearing Buxton Ridge's full dress uniform, stood, saluted the Corporal, and took the flag from him.

"It's a proud keepsake, Jacob. Your father was a good man and I hope that one day you'll understand that." He spoke quietly, privately. Jake looked up at him, wordless, his face fixed. Everyone stood while the coffin was lowered into the grave. 

The first of three rifle volleys rang out in the cool morning air.

**~o0o~**

"Let's get you comfortable," Willow said as confidently as she could, leading Amanda towards the seat.

_Think! How far apart are the contractions? Hell - what does that mean anyway? She's been in labour since..._Willow looked at her watch..._about six, maybe before that._

Amanda sat down gingerly as another contraction started. "They're...getting...stronger. Ahhh. Damn. It's hurting..."

"Gotta expect that, babe. That's one big watermelon you've gotta squeeze out. You okay? Handling it?" Amanda looked up at Willow and forced a smile as Vincent sat down beside her, rubbing her back.

"Oh - yeah - that's nice," Amanda breathed, closing her eyes as the contraction eased up.

"See - men _can_ be useful for something!" Willow quipped, provoking a smile from Amanda. "And speaking of being useful - Coyote, get out there and bring in plenty of wood for the fire. We're gonna need to keep the place warm for the little visitor."

_What are we gonna need? Think, dammit! Something to wrap the baby in. Something to tie the cord with - something to cut it. Sterile..."_

"Vinny, hon, have you got a pocket knife?"

Vincent blanched and Amanda looked up at her.

"Heh - don't worry - I'm not thinking about doing a Caesarean." _Oh Jesus no. Please. Not that._ "I just need something to cut the cord with. What - you thought I was gonna bite through it like my cat did?"

Vincent smiled this time and visibly relaxed. "Yeah - I've got one of those Swiss ones - you know - knives, scissors, all that stuff."

"Would you get it please, hon, and make it sharp, like a razor. Can you do without him for a minute, babe?"

Amanda nodded, feeling the start of another contraction.

_Shit - they're coming faster. Come on park guys - please - hurry - don't make me do this!"_

Willow knelt down in front of Amanda and smiled. "Must be a boy. Always in a damn rush!" Amanda forced another grin. Jake came back in with a fancy pocket knife as Coyote put a bundle of logs on the fire. "Coyote, get a pot with plenty of water on to boil so I can sterilise this knife." She opened it and felt the blade. It was razor-sharp. She gave the knife back to Vincent. "Did you say scissors?"

He took the knife and flipped out a small, gleaming pair of scissors and handed it back to Willow. "Uh - what..."

"Might be easier to use the scissors. I don't know. It's good to have the option." _And in case...fuck...in case I have to do an episiotomy there's no way I'm gonna use a knife. How would I know? How do I know if she's gonna tear?_ She turned toward the window, hoping against hope to see the face of a Park Ranger. Nothing. _Get everything ready, then start the wedding. Distractions. What have I forgotten?_

Coyote came up and snapped to attention. "Fire burning, pot filled. What now, Sir?"

"Shouldn't that be 'Ma'm?'" Amanda said, her voice shaking a little, but a smile on her face.

"You're going to have a job to do in a minute or two, lover. In the meantime entertain the baby." 

Leaving coyote babbling nonsense at Amanda's belly and Amanda laughing at the silliness of his antics, Willow stepped out into the gusting wind, shielding her eyes from the blowing leaves. She walked toward the Kombi and stopped, looking round at the trees bending in the wind. "I don't know whether there's anyone out there," she whispered to no-on in particular. "But if there is, please..." She felt her eyes fill. "Please...don't let anything go wrong. She's scared. And so...so am I. Please...I'll do everything I can but please help me if you can." She drew the back of her hand across her eyes. A gust swept past her, whipping her skirt against her legs. She opened the latch and pulled the Kombi's sliding door open and climbed inside. In the back was a small wicker basket. She took a reel of thread and a packet of needles, put them in a pocket in her skirt then closed the lid and returned the basket to its place behind the back seat. She climbed out of the Kombi, closing the door behind her, and went back inside.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward her, expectant, waiting for their orders. 

_No doubt about who _they_ think's in charge, _Willow thought.

Every trace of uncertainty was gone from her face and the old, confident Willow was back. "Okay - here's..." Amanda had started another contraction and, from the look on her face it was a doosie. Willow waited, hearing Amanda straining and breathing fast and shallow when the pain hit. She turned to Vincent and Coyote. "Uh, guys, would you mind stepping outside for a minute or two? Go and get some more firewood or something. I'll call you." They got up and left without question. 

Willow watched them go and walked over to the fire where the pot full of water was steaming slowly. Hearing Amanda groan with another contraction, she poured some out into a bowl and cooled it with a little cold water, then taking some soap from a bag she washed her hands, dried them, and came back to Amanda. "Okay, babe. Time to see how things are progressing." 

Five minutes later she went to the door to call Coyote and Vincent but they were nowhere in sight. "Okay," she called. "Things are moving fast - you can come back i...oh my God!"

**~o0o~**

The last few stragglers left the wake and Ruth drifted around like a ghost, picking up empty glasses and plates and carrying them out to the kitchen.

She looked down at Jake,, sitting on the sofa where his father used to sit, and she stopped. "You look terrible, Jakey. Go to bed. I'll tidy up."

He stood, kissed her, and mumbled. "Yeah. See you in the morning, Mom," and trudged off to bed.

He lay in a state of semi-shock, tossing and turning, hearing his mother pottering around in the kitchen, wrapping up the leftover food . How many times had he wished his father dead? How many times had he thought that if only Mad Dog would die, everything would be alright?

He was waiting to see whether it would or not. He was waiting to see how things would be, now that the person he blamed for all his troubles was out of the way. And nothing was happening. Nothing had changed. He didn't feel that weight lifted off his shoulders at all. He didn't feel the happiness that he should feel, that he always expected to feel when the day finally arrived. He hadn't expected it to arrive so soon of course, but he knew that it would happen, and on that happy day Jake Morgendorffer would escape from the cocoon, unfurl his wings in the sun, and fly away. Instead he was lying on his bed in the darkened room, still a caterpillar, still waiting.

He was starting to realize what that horrid little knot in the pit of his stomach meant...maybe his dad had been right.

Finally he slept for the first time in three days.

**~o0o~**

Vincent and Coyote stepped out from behind the open door. Coyote had fished an old, battered top hat that he'd picked up for a dollar at a flea market in San Francisco from his store of gear in the Kombi and Vincent had found a tie in the Willys which he'd tied in a perfect Windsor knot over his t-shirt. In his hand Vincent held an assortment of the local vegetation, among which were a few sad flowers still clinging on through the storm and the late Fall weather.

"Perfect," Willow whispered, smiling despite herself. "Be quick, guys - the baby's in a hurry and..." She was interrupted by a groan from Amanda that threatened to turn into a scream.

"Oh Jeezuz..." Vincent an in to see Amanda standing up, holding her stomach and wincing in pain. She looked up and managed something that might have been a laugh in other circumstances. He got down on one knee in front of her, looked up, and held out the "flowers".

"I love you, Amanda. Will you marry me?"

Willow and Coyote stood by the door, their arms around each other's waists, watching.

Amanda breathed deeply as the pain subsided and looked down at him. Whether it was the pain, or the hormones, or simply the knowledge that she was past outside intervention, her fear had gone. Willow would do what had to be done and, if things went terribly wrong and...well, whatever would happen would happen. She had enough to deal with. And besides, it was her wedding day. 

She took the bouquet from him and looked up at Willow and Coyote. She looked down at Vincent again, feeling the tightening across her back that signalled the start of another contraction, smiled while she could, and said, simply. "Yes."

Vincent got to his feet and they hugged, then he turned to Willow. "Shouldn't she be...you know...lying down?"

Willow shook her head. "That's bullshit. The natural way for humans to give birth's either squatting or on all fours. The lying down thing's just to make it easy for the doctor - you'd know that it'd be something invented by men. When women were in charge they used things called birthing stools that supported the mother in a squatting position. And guys - guess what?" She grinned. "You two have just been promoted to birthing stools. Here's what you're gonna do..."

Following Willow's instructions Vincent and Coyote, still wearing his top hat, squatted down on either side of Amanda, who squatted between them, her arms around their shoulders. As the contraction came on she transferred her weight to them and they struggled to balance.

"Nnnnnnnggggg ahhahhahhhhhhh ffffFFFFUUUUU...." Vincent took her hand and squeezed, wanting desperately to relieve her pain, but knowing that he was doing all he could. 

Willow walked over to the fire where the pot was simmering with the pocket kife, the thread on its wooden spool, and the needles, all now sterile. She poured another bowl of hot water from the pot, using most of it up so that it would cool down enough for her to retrieve what she needed when the time came, and cooled the water in the bowl with some cold water from the jerry can they'd brought with them. She threw a pile of logs onto the fire. It was still cool in the cabin and she needed it to be uncomfortably warm. Taking a clean towel to wrap the baby in she closed her eyes for a second, once more silently asking whatever spirits might be lurking for their blessing, and took the things back to where the three had stood again between contractions.

The wind screamed and the cabin creaked..

"Okay, " she sighed. "We've got what we need. I just wish we had some alcohol."

Coyote shot her a surprised glance. "This is not time to be getting drunk, man."

"Idiot!" She grinned. "For sterilising..." _Shit. Bad move_ "...things." The less said about torn perineums and episiotomies the better. If the gods were smiling she wouldn't have to do one anyway. She wished that she hadn't read about that, but then it was one of those things you had to know, wasn't it?

Vincent ran off like a scalded cat, leaving the door open behind him.

"What the..." Willow stared after him.

"He's got some." Amanda remembered the flask of brandy he always carried, half tempted to take it and drink it dry when he came back.

Thirty seconds later Vincent came back and handed the small silver flask to Willow.

"Good boy," she said, putting it down on the floor with the other things and hoping to hell that it would all still be there to toast a healthy mother and baby when all this was over.

"Ohhhh jeeezzzzz...." groaned Amanda as another contraction started. They took up their squatting positions again. 

Willow waited until it was over then reached under Amanda's dress. "I can feel its head." She looked at Amanda. "You're just about open enough, babe. Not long now."

"The who's what in the where?" asked Coyote.

"The neck of the womb," said Willow, looking up at him. "It has to expand to let the baby out. The contractions push the baby's head down against it. The bones in the skull don't fuse for months and they're still separate so the skull can deform. The pressure's incredible. When the baby's first born its head'll probably look a little strange for a while until its skull goes back into shape."

Coyote's face turned pale and he swayed a little as Amanda's face contorted in another contraction. She felt him start to topple and, still crouching and breathing raggedly, she turned to him and leaned forward, stretched out one arm and jerked Coyote to her until his nose was inches from hers, and in a deep growl that shocked everyone in the room spoke four words before releasing him with a shove. "GET US MARRIED, NOW!"

Coyote shook his head like a dog shaking water off its coat. "Uh - married - yeah." He swallowed, collecting himself, then looked to Willow.

"Make it short," said Willow.

Coyote nodded and turned to Vincent. "Do you love Amanda, Vincent?"

Vinny reached up to her hand and held it tight. He turned and looked into her eyes, sweat trickling down her brow. Pain, mixed with love but mainly pain, and more beautiful for all that. "Oh yes. I do." he breathed.

"Amanda, do you love Vincent?"

"YeeeEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS"

"Easy, babe," whispered Willow. "You're doin' great." She reached under Amanda's dress again and smiled. "You're fully dilated. The baby's started making that short trip. I'm gonna need to see what I'm doing now, the dress has gotta go."

Amanda managed a smile while Willow slipped the dress up upver her head. "Keeep goinnnnnggg," she moaned to Coyote through clenched teeth.

"Then," said Coyote, his voice sounding strangely measured and resonant in the small space, "by the earth and the sky, by the mountains and the sea, by the sun and the moon and the stars, by all the gods and goddesses, by the infinite and the infinitesimal, the great and the small, by the birds and the beasts and the trees, I announce now by all these that your love has made you...Vincent and Amanda...man and woman...one."

Amanda, naked and sweating from the heat that the fire was pumping into the room but mainly from the exertion, panted out a "Haaaaah," a sigh of relief.

Willow looked up into their faces and allowed herself a smile. "Congratulations. Now next contraction, babe, push for all you're worth, okay?" Then, to Vincent. "Well? Are you going to kiss your wife?"

They turned their heads to each other, leant in, and kissed. 

"MmmMMMMMMMAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH" screamed Amanda and Willow turned her concentration to the business at hand.

"Great, babe - push - oh Yeah! The baby's crowning! Just one more. Come on!" She put her hand under the baby's head, hoping that her perineum wouldn't tear..

"NNNNNGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOGGGGGGGOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDD!"

Willow cradled the baby's head as it was forced down the most perilous few inches it would ever travel. "Yes! Yes, babe! That's it, that's it. One last time."

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH"

As the baby slid out Willow supported it and gently lifted it forward and up. She looked up at Amanda's face, red with exertion, and grinned. "It's a boy."

Amanda almost fainted with relief, her eyes struggling to stay open. She stared at the wet, bloody, but perfect baby, unable to speak.

"Just a little more work yet, babe. It's nearly over." breathed Willow. "Hold her up guys, we're not quite done yet," she said to Vinny and Coyote. Cradling the baby, she reached down to the pan, pulled out the thread and broke off two six inch lengths. She sat, and held the baby, which was obviously just about to voice its displeasure, on her lap while she tied the umbilical cord off a couple of inches from the baby and again two inches higher up. She reached down for the knife and deftly cut the cord between the two ties, just as the afterbirth dropped out onto the floor.

The baby howled.

"Well done babe - I mean Mrs Lane, well done." breathed Willow. "You too guys," she said, winking at Amanda's supporters, one of whom was looking distinctly unsteady. "Help her over onto the bed then tidy up. Uh, Vinny, it looks like you're gonna have to do most of it, hon." Vincent turned to look at Coyote, staring at the afterbirth on the floor, as he sighed and collapsed in a dead faint. 

Willow wet a washcloth in the warm water and gently wiped the wailing infant clean of the blood and mucous that clung to it, then wrapped it in the towel. For the first time, she looked down at it while she carried it over to Amanda. It...he...was beautiful. He had her blue eyes. She knelt by the bed, unwrapped the towel from around him, and gently lay him on his mother's breast. Amanda was still panting from the exertion but she held her breath as she looked down at her son, smiled, and let her head flop back onto the pillow. Her eyes closed. On her face was a look of transcendent bliss. 

Willow fetched the pot of warm water and the washcloth and gently parted Amanda's knees to clean her up. If she'd torn it was too late to do much now but stitch her up and hope for the best. Carefully wiping Amanda clean, Willow sighed with relief. No tear. The baby had stopped crying. The only sound was the occasional crackle from the fireplace. 

Amanda opened her eyes and raised her head. "Listen!" she said.

The others stopped what they were doing and stood, listening.

"I can't hear anything," Coyote said.

Amanda smiled. "I know."

As one they realised what she meant. The sound that had been a constant background since they'd arrived had stopped.

"I know what I'm going to call him," Amanda said, looking down her son asleep on her breast. "Wind Jacob Lane."

**~o0o~**

Jake awoke with a start. Someone had spoken his name. The house was dark and silent, but the sound was so close - he was sure that whoever had said was in the room with him . He waited, motionless, straining his ears to hear in case they spoke again, but there was nothing, and he finally conceded that it must have been a dream. Had he been dreaming? He couldn't remember. He closed his eyes, hoping to get back to sleep, but it was hopeless. He sat up and turned on the light on his nightstand, glancing at the clock. Quarter past two. He was dog tired. He sighed and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed into the slippers that his mother had put out for him while he slept, before she went to bed. What was she feeling, he wondered, how was she coping?

He stood up. His head felt as if it was full of cotton wool. His eyes were sore. He looked in the mirror as he passed and almost cried out. The face looking back at him was haggard, dark circles under bloodshot eyes, creases in the forehead. It was Jake's face, but for the first time he saw echos of his father in it.

He trudged to the kitchen and drank a glass of water, reluctant to turn on the light in case it woke Ruth in her room across the hallway. The cold water washed away some of the fuzz and he walked slowly back down the hall, stopping as he passed the room they used as an office. In the reflected light of the street lamp outside the Corcorans' place across the road he could just make out the shape of the old maple desk where Mad Dog used to sit and read the paper or write to his old army buddies. Ruth sat there too, to pay the bills and write the Christmas cards. Jake had sometimes used it for study or building models when he was younger, but his father got impatient with him and he'd moved his base of operations to his bedroom, the only place in the house that he felt was his, and he'd never come back to that room.

Feeling round the door frame he flipped up the light switch, screwing up his dark-adapted eyes against the light. He walked slowly around the desk, dragging a finger over its rough surface, his mind's eye full of the sight of his father, and he sat in the old bentwood swivel chair with the cracked brown leather padding that had been a part of the room as far back as his memory stretched. The walls were hung with memorabilia of the Second World War - photographs, yellowing newspaper clippings. And a photograph of Jake's dead brother, Mike Junior, holding a football, a smiling and younger Mad Dog with his arm around him, grinning at the camera. How many times had Jake stared at that photograph, knowing how much Mad Dog had wished that Mike hadn't died, how much he wanted Jake to be like Mike - or at least what Mad Dog had hoped Mike would be like? But the thought didn't penetrate the numbness Jake was feeling right now. 

He picked up the black Parker fountain pen with the gold nib from the inkstand, feeling its weight in his hand, and idly pressed it against his finger. It was dry. Perhaps there was a bottle of ink in the drawer. Not that he wanted to write anything. It was just something to do, something to while away the darkness. He opened the drawer, feeling the friction of wood against wood and noticed that over the years the base of the drawer had worn away a little leaving a wider gap between the top of the drawer and the bottom of the desk than there would have been when the desk was new. A faint musty smell rose from the drawer as it opened. Inside was a jumble of corroded paper clips, old ballpoint pens empty of ink for the most part, envelopes, stamps, postcards - one he recognised from Aunt Lilly's trip to France three years ago - the ephemera of his father's life. He pulled out the pile of envelopes and started flipping through them. One from the insurance company, one from that guy in Maine who was always trying to sell them timeshare vacations, one from...Buxton Ridge?

Jake turned the envelope over, wondering whether he should read it or not. Finally figuring that it must have been either about him or at least of interest to him - besides, he was the man of the house now - he slipped the crisp paper out and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Mad Dog,_

_I'm so sorry. But I know you wouldn't want me to do anything except come to the point, so that's what I'll do._

_I felt I needed to write to you about a situation that's come about here. It seems Jacob has made a mistake with that girl. I hate like hell to drop this on you, Mad Dog, but knowing how you felt on the matter I feel obliged to keep you informed. Maybe you have a chance to straighten things out, to keep him on the right path. _

_Give those bastards hell for me. I'll see you on the other side._

_Ellenbogen_

Jake put the letter down on the desk.

_That girl?_ What the... _knowing how you felt on the matter?_

Ellenbogen and Mad Dog had been talking - corresponding - about "that girl". Amanda! What the hell did Ellenbogen know? What had he told Mad Dog? That misbegotten bastard had been spying on him! No doubt because that's exactly what Mad Dog had asked him to do. Now that he knew that Mad Dog had saved Ellenbogen's life it all fell into place - the reason for sending him to Buxton Ridge. To be spied on. Watched.

He looked down at the desk and felt the floor drop out from underneath him. His hand trembled as he read his own name on the top envelope, written in a familiar hand...a hand he'd never expected to see again...and a cannonball hit him in the gut as he took the letter out, unfolded it, and read...

_Dear Jake,_

_I've been trying so hard to work out the best way to tell you this._

_This is the fifth time I've written this letter. I've screwed up the last four and thrown them away. The problem is that no matter how I say it it's the same. I'm pregnant._

_I love you Jake. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared._

_Please write to me or call me. Please Jake._

_Amanda_

He put the letter down on the desk and sucked in a breath, hardly noticing that he hadn't breathed since he'd seen his name on the envelope. He looked down at the pile of letters, refusing to believe what he saw next. He picked up and slit the sealed and unstamped envelope with his finger, taking the letter out to read though he already knew exactly what it said.

_Dear Amanda,_

_I got home three days ago. So far it hasn't been too bad. Mad Dog and I keep out of each other's way and Mom's been trying to make me feel at home but it hasn't worked. I feel like I don't belong here any more. It's not that anyone's different but, well, I guess I am..._

He screwed up the letter and dropped it on the floor.

She loved him.

She was pregnant.

Just that once...

Ellenbogen had known all about it.

Ellenbogen had told Mad Dog everything.

Mad Dog had known the whole story before Jake had come home.

He'd intercepted Amanda's letters.

He'd intercepted all of his letters to Amanda. 

_Oh Amanda. _

_Oh Amanda. _

_You thought that I wasn't writing to you._

_You were pregnant and scared and you needed me and you loved me and you thought that I'd...that I'd..._

And all the time Mad Dog knew everything.

All that bullshit.

It was just more exquisite torture.

He saw it all, saw Mad Dog sitting here - where he was sitting now - reading Amanda's letters. Laughing. Thinking about how he could torment Jake the next day.

_Oh Amanda..._

Perhaps it wasn't too late.

If he could find her, get the right phone number...

He flipped through the letters. They were in order. He found the last one - the most recent one. Surely that one would tell him where she was, what was happening. He controlled the shaking enough to take out the letter.

_Dear Jake,_

_I don't think this will get to you. I don't know what's gone wrong but I know that the things in the note to my parents weren't true. _

Note to her parents? What note? What goddamned...

_In case this does ever get to you, I want you to know that our baby will be safe._

_Dad was going to send me away to have the baby and then have it adopted, but I can't do that. I'm hitch hiking to San Francisco. I don't know why, but it just seems to be a good place to be and they have a great art community that Sister Assumpta used to talk about. I guess I'll find out when I get there. Maybe I can get a job in an art gallery or something like that. Sister Assumpta gave me some money - it's a long story and I wish that more than anything in the world I could tell you about it. I should be fine now until I can get a job._

_I suppose we won't see each other again so there are two things I want you to know. I love you, and I'll look after our child._

_All my love. Always._

_Amanda._

An inhuman howl shattered the silence.

There was a gasp from across the room and Jake looked up to see his mother; barefoot and clutching at her nightgown, almost like a lost little girl.

"Jakey?" she whispered.

Had he called out? He couldn't remember. It was strange. There was a small, quiet part of him watching, detached, logging everything around him, seeing the confused look on her face. 

"Do you know what he's done? Do you?" 

Jake's head jerked up. His eyes were unfocussed and he was as white as a ghost. Slowly he rose from the chair.

"Do you know what that BASTARD'S done?" Jake hadn't raised his voice by a single decibel, but the way he spat the words out was so violent that his mother involuntarily raised her hands as if to cover her ears.

"Do you know what these are?" He swept his hand across the pile of letters, scattering them across the room as he walked around to her.

Ruth shook her head, staring at him.

"She loved me. See?" He held the one letter out to her with a trembling hand. His voice was quiet, pleading.

Jake stared at her looking down at the letter, a realisation dawning...

"Did you...did you know...?" he whispered, holding her arm tightly, "Did you help him?" 

He waited for an answer, tightening his grip, watching her face turn pale, seeing a look in her eyes that he'd never seen before. Ruth looked into his face, and her eyes rolled up as she slowly collapsed unconscious on the floor.

While the seething mass of screaming red fury that made up most of his conscious now boiled and raged inside him, the part that crouched in that tiny, quiet corner struggled to process what he'd seen on her face. Could it have been fear?

What did she have to be afraid of now? 

Except...

_NO!_

The red fury burst like a bubble and he dropped to his knees beside her.

"Mom?" he whispered, cradling her head.

_She's just lost her husband, She's just buried him for God's sake. I'm all she has and I accused her of...I yelled at her...treated her like crap...just like..._

Jake shook his head, holding his hands up to his temples.

_NO!_

_Yes._

_Just like..._

_Dad._

He fought to hold back another animal scream.

She was weightless in his arms as he carried her back to her bedroom and laid her gently down on the bed.

He turned the covers back and lifted her again, putting her down and drawing the covers back over her as the last vestiges of hope drained away and he knew that Amanda and their child were better off without him.

He stood, watching his mother.

How could he ever have imagined in his wildest dreams that he could ever have children? He'd hurt them. Destroy them. Just the way that Mad Dog had done to him and his mother. Even in the almost impossible event that he ever met his child, or...impossible...had other children...he could never let himself get close to them...knowing what he'd do to them.

**~o0o~ ~o0o~**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** Martin J Pollard for A-man-da; our beta readers: Renfield, Bootstrapper, Aradia Goblin Queen, and the always astounding Malevolent Turtle, who is anything but.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	8. Ice and Fire

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 8: Ice and Fire 

**o0o o0o**

"Oh - he's beautiful! Can I hold him?"

The receptionist at the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic walked round from behind her desk for a better look. Amanda grinned and passed her the tightly wrapped bundle. Wind looked up at her with his bright blue eyes and gurgled, and she looked over at Amanda and Willow with eyes that said she'd just fallen in love.

"Aren't you gorgeous! What's his name?"

"Wind," chimed Willow and Amanda together as the baby smiled again.

"Well, hi there little Wind!" Doctor Smith had come up behind the admiring throng and looked over Willow's shoulder. "No need to check on you today by the looks of you!" He glanced at Amanda. "How's he been?"

"Great," smiled Amanda. "He's sleeping well, eating well. He's no trouble at all."

Doctor Smith raised his eyebrows. "Really? I mean he looks great, but I think you're the first young mother who hasn't added a 'but' - you know - 'great but I wish he'd sleep more' or 'great but I'm having trouble feeding him'. So - no problems at all eh?"

"She's a natural, Doc," grinned Willow.

"You must be Willow."

"One and the same," Willow said, returning his smile and shaking the proffered hand.

"From what Amanda told me I may have to look out or I might come in one morning and find that you've taken over my job."

Willow blushed. "I just did what I had to."

"You did magnificently. Well done." He tickled Wind under the chin, provoking another gurgle, then turned to Amanda. "Come on in then."

The two of them left Willow and the receptionist playing with Wind and walked through the door into the Doctor's room. He motioned for Amanda to sit down. "Well, the results of the tests have come back," he said, opening her file and looking at the papers. "Let's see...you were worried because your periods haven't gone back to normal since the birth." He peered down at the test results while Amanda sat nervously, hanging off every "hmm".

"Is there...is anything wrong?"

Doctor Smith looked up from the results and took off his glasses.

"You know, I don't know whether you're a very lucky or very unlucky young lady, Amanda. Having a baby under the circumstances you described - it could have been very dangerous. So many things can go wrong. As I said, your friend Willow did remarkably well considering, but she was lucky too. If there's been a problem with the birth - if Wind had been breech, or the cord was tangled, or even if you'd torn - and the fact that you didn't under the circumstances is something of a miracle in itself. In that sense, anyway, you were very lucky."

A chill ran up Amanda's spine. He was working up to a "but".

**o0o**

Houses gave way to fields as Jake walked out of town along familiar roads, past farms and buildings, each a reminder of conversations past, words that tore and ripped like a blade. The January air was chill but Jake didn't notice. He was cold all the time now.

At a fence outside a red barn he stopped. The barn door was slightly ajar and inside he could just make out the rails of stalls.

He looked around. The road and the fields were deserted. He parted the wires of the fence and climbed through. Squeezing between the doors he paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The air was dusty, shafts of pale winter sunlight streaming down from the holes in the roof reflecting off motes floating in the still air. But he hadn't prepared himself for the smell and it hit him like a blow, releasing a wave of until now unremembered scenes and sensations. His stomach contracted.

A familiar face startled him and he walked over to the stall, breathing shallowly to control the overpowering urge to vomit.

"What are you doing here, boy? You should be outside on a day like this," he whispered as the palomino pony snorted and sniffed his hand.

"No apples today, feller."

He straightened up, absentmindedly stroking the pony's nose, and looked around. The blanket still hung over the rail at the side of the stall and, behind it, a stack of hay bales was where he remembered it. He looked back at the pony. "You remember, don't you boy? You remember her," he whispered, his voice horse.

And silently, in the privacy of the barn, Jake allowed himself to weep.

Finally, drained, and feeling the pony's warm breath on his brow, he looked up and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, his deep breaths interspersed with ragged sobs.

Putting his hand deep in his pocket he took out the tiny box, still wrapped in its handkerchief, and uncovered it. He snapped the lid open and took out the ring. In the dark of the barn the gold barely glinted but the diamond still sparkled, collecting and amplifying the light streaming in through the roof and the grimy window. He walked slowly across to the bale where they'd sat that night, wrapped in the blanket. He knelt down and rested his forehead on the bale, then tenderly lay the ring on the hay.

He waited a minute, kneeling, looking at the ring resting against last season's dry yellow stems. Then he stood and, without looking back, walked out of the barn back towards town, tossing the empty box carelessly into the bushes that lined the side of the road.

**o0o**

The Kombi drove off as Amanda puzzled over Willow's insistence that she look after Wind for few hours. It was the first break she'd had from the pressures of motherhood since Wind had been born and she was grateful. But now, since she'd come back from the Clinic, it was for all the wrong reasons.

Reluctantly, she climbed the stairs to the apartment that she and Vincent had found two days after they came back from Mount Shasta; after the rangers had cut up the tree and come to tell the people in the cabin that they could get out, staring open-mouthed at the new life that had been born the day before. Taking a leaf out of Willow's and Coyote's book they'd decorated the apartment with milk crate and cinder block furniture, second-hand chairs and tables they'd bought and scrounged. It was the home of people who knew they'd be leaving soon, but it was simple and clean. And it was home.

But now Amanda's steps slowed as she climbed the stairs. Halfway up she stopped, sensing an unfamiliar smell, then, full of foreboding, she walked the final few steps to the door. As her hand went out to open it, the door swung inwards to reveal Vincent, a dozen long-stemmed red roses in his hand, smiling. Behind him the room was full of flowers. The table was set with candles and wine glasses and a bottle of champagne straight from the refrigerator that glistened with droplets of condensed moisture. On the wall beside the door to the kitchen a hand-lettered poster read "Happy Birthday Amanda".

Vincent had rehearsed this moment in his mind a dozen times but none of the reactions he'd imagined from Amanda had been this one. He stared at her as her eyes flicked around the room like an animal caught car headlights.

_What the hell?_

But she smiled and though for a moment he felt it was forced, he smiled back and handed her the flowers.

"Thanks," she said, quietly and perhaps a little hesitantly, as she took them. He'd been hoping for more. The flowers had cost a fortune, but he wanted it to be special. He hadn't been able to do any of the things he would have liked to when Wind was born, and he'd put all his planning into this, arranging for Willow and Coyote to take Wind for a few hours, cooking food he knew she liked, good Champagne. And the locket. He'd wait until a very special moment to give that to her.

He saw here glance towards the table where a very home-made chocolate cake with vanilla icing took pride of place. He expected that she'd laugh at the effort he'd put into the cake, the swirls of bright pink icing mixing with the white where he'd obviously had to try and re-try to get the lettering right. Shaky letters spelled out _Happy Birtday momy_. Eighteen candles burnt at odd intervals on the top.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I have a headache," she said softly, and looked down at the flowers. "These are beautiful. Thank you. And you made a cake!" He looked into her eyes and he noticed that the sadness was back. "...All this...its..."

She dropped the flowers and ran into the bathroom. As soon as he got over his shock he followed her, to see her kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up. He stood, uncertain, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Uh, honey...are you...?"

"I...I'm...eeerrrrgggghhh" She breathed, and threw up again.

Vincent had wanted so much for this to be perfect! He knelt with his arm around her, stroking her hair as her stomach emptied itself into the toilet. When she was able to stand her face was white and her eyes were running. He got a washcloth and helped her clean up. She looked up at the disappointment in his face and smiled wanly. "I'm fine now, come on."

_Fine? _"No, it's okay. We can do this when you're feeling better."

"No, please, I mean it." She led him back out into the living room. Two of the candles were still alight on the cake, the rest of them had burnt down to the icing leaving coloured wax puddles. "It's beautiful..."

"Happy birthday Mrs. Lane."

She looked down at the pink lettering, barely able to make it out under the puddles of coloured wax. As she puzzled over it he popped the Champagne cork and poured some out into a long, thin glass and handed it to her. She looked up at it, the colour of old straw with bubbles rising in tiny streams, then back to the cake, then to the glass...

"I...I can't..." Her face drained of colour again.

_Oh, man, something's seriously..._

She ran for the door, flung it open and took the steps two at a time.

Vincent watched, stunned. He put the bottle down and turned to run after her, quickly turning back to blow the two remaining candles out. By the time he got to the bottom of the steps she'd disappeared.

Force of habit took Amanda to the park where she liked to walk with Wind in the papoose on her back. It was just a couple of suburban lots in size, some swings, a bench, shade trees. She sat on a swing, her stomach in knots, her head pounding, and her thoughts jumbled and confused.

She looked up at the stars and took a deep breath, holding it then releasing it.

As she'd walked in the door, the smell of flowers, spicy food and burning candles had been overpowering and she'd had to fight the urge to gag. And Vincent, standing, looking so happy, holding out red roses, the room decorated, a cake that he'd obviously made himself...planned the whole thing with Wind and Willow...oh God how she loved him...then knot in her stomach...fear mixed with the smell...

After she'd thrown up she thought it would be alright. Oh God. The cake. _Happy Birtday momy._ Champagne, _NONONONONONONO_

And she'd run.

She felt the weight of unbearable guilt. He'd gone to all that trouble for her birthday, those flowers must have cost a fortune, and she'd ruined it... ruined everything.

She stared up at the stars, distorted through tears, worry and faith warring in her mind.

Her tears were still falling when Vincent found her ten minutes later.

He didn't say a word. He just slipped his hand into hers and settled into the swing next to her, and waited.

She looked up at him through the tears in her eyes.

_He's a good guy. He's not going to leave._ _He'll stay with me._

She kept telling herself that. But there was an insipid little voice that kept telling her that _Jake was a 'good' guy too; Jake would never leave you either...look at where that got you._

"I'm pregnant," she said to the sky, her eyes closed.

A sound. Was it a laugh?

Slience. She turned to the swing beside her and opened her eyes, seeing what she most feared and most expected. It was empty.

Then, as she slowly turned, her heart breaking, she realised that he was standing in front of her.

He pulled her up from the swing with one hand. Up close she could see the look on his face... He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, then wrapped his arms around her. With a loud _whoooop_ of excitement he spun her around a couple times then, taking her hand in his again, led her back towards the apartment.

Willow was just about to knock a second time when the door opened. Vincent stood there in a sheet and obviously nothing else.

He smiled at her. "Come in. How's he been?"

Willow smirked. "Fine. Just fine." She looked down. "So - the birthday party went well I see."

He laughed and closed the door behind her then went to take Wind from her but, realising that the sheet would fall if he did, said "Er, do you mind?"

Willow laughed and followed him into the bedroom, past the still-full bottle of Champagne and the clean plates. Nothing had been touched except the cake.

Amanda was sitting up in the bed, taking a bite out of a slice of cake that was more wax than icing. She looked up at Willow with a gleam in her eye and reached up for wind, the sheet falling away from her. "Oh, Wind! How's my baby?"

"He's fine. I see you assumed he was going to be hungry," she said dryly.

Amanda glanced down at her bare breasts and burst out laughing, pieces of chocolate cake spraying across the sheet.

Willow grinned and knelt down to hand Wind to Amanda, but then she noticed the locket hanging low around her neck and stared. "Oh wow!" Amanda's pale straw hair hung over her shoulder, and her skin, where it had been protected from the sun that she loved, was almost white. The tiny gold locket, resting against _that_ skin next to _that_ hair was simply spectacular.

Amanda took Wind and offered him a dinner which he eagerly accepted. She looked down and cradled the locket slowly in her hand, then held it up for Willow to see. "My birthday present," she said quietly.

Willow, seeing the joy in her eyes, leant forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"Happy birthday, babe," she whispered.

"Hey!" said Vincent, "The Champagne's probably warm by now, but will you join us for a birthday drink?"

"Sure! Coyote's in the Kombi. I'll get him?"

It was the best birthday Amanda had ever had.

**o0o**

"Come on, Morgendorffer. You're the only one who hasn't got somthing happening tonight. I just need a warm body, man. This chick is hot, and if I don't come up with a date for her sister it's no dice!"

"I told you, Kowalski, I'm not interested."

"But damn, Mor...Jake...pal...you've gotta do this for me! Her old lady won't let her go out unless her older sister chaperones her. It's not as if you have to _do_ anything, just come along, sit with us while we eat and let me take it from there. Tell you what - I'll pay for the taxi, dinner, and the movie for all four of us. It won't cost you a cent. ."

"Jeez, Kowalski. You must be desperate."

"You'd be desperate too if you saw her. And she's got the reputation, man - she'll take on anything that's warm. Come on Morgendorffer!" Kowalski grimaced in pain at what the next word cost him. "Please?"

"I'm gonna regret this, but okay."

"You what?"

"I'm going on a double date with Kowalski."

"Kowalski? You mean Junior's buddy?"

"Yes. That Kowalski."

"Man, that kirp's been on your case from the day you got here! Ever since Junior graduated Kowalski's reckoned it's been his God-given duty to ride you! Why in tarnashun would you wanna go on a double date with him?"

"Well, part of was that he has to pay for four people instead of two. That was pretty sweet. But what clinched it was the look on his face when he said 'please'."

Willy sighed and nodded. It was the first time he'd seen Jake smile since he'd come back from his father's funeral. After what Jake had told him about the letter from Ellenbogen and the way that Mad Dog had intercepted Amanda's letters, Willy finally understood the way Jake felt about his father. So if Jake was getting a kick out of seeing Kawalski grovel, well, that was good, wasn't it? "Yeah. I get it. And you never know, Jakey. She might be nice."

"I don't care if she's got two heads, one arm, zits, false teeth, a wooden leg, and a glass eye. I'm gonna enjoy every minute of it."

Willy watched Jake brush his hair and make sure his tie was straight. "So is Kawalski comin' by to get you?"

"Nope."

"You goin' t' his barracks?"

"Nope."

"So..."

A wry smile twisted Jake's mouth. "I told him to come by in the cab and pick me..." A car horn sounding outside the barracks interrupted. Jake winked at Willy.

"You're gonna milk this, aint' ya, Jakey?"

"Until the udder's dry, Willy, until the udder's dry."

Willy laughed as Jake walked out to the cab. He looked at his watch. Quarter to six. Time to get the bus into town to meet Hilda. _Man,_ he thought, _was my Pa ever right about women._ His heart thumped as he thought about her. But Jake. Was there ever a sadder story? When he'd listened to Jake telling him he'd had to turn away. Wasn't right to cry, or at least let people see you cry. And the way Jake had taken the ring back to the barn. That was...what was the word? Symbolic. Yeah. Symbolic. It was the thing he had to do to let her go...to say goodbye. Willy sniffed, ashamed to feel his eyes filling again. Much as he loved Hilda, he felt that the story of Jake and Amanda was like one of those fairy stories that his Pa used to tell him when he was a kid. They always ended in tragedy too. Not like the movies, where the prince always got the princess; they were bunkum. It didn't happen like that. More like that story about the little mermaid, the way she died. He seemed to remember that he'd cried when his Pa had finished that story too. They made a statue of her, his Pa had said, and if his Pa had said it it was true. A statue, at the harbour in - where was it? Oh yeah. Copenhagen. Of the little mermaid who'd died for love. Man, that was a sad story. Jake had kind of died for love too. Well, not completely died, but a part of him. Every night when Willy went to bed he asked Jesus to look after Amanda and her baby, to keep them safe. And to look after his buddy Jake so maybe he could stop hating so much - stop hating himself so much.

So here he was, going to meet the beautiful Hilda. Not beautiful like most folks'd call beautiful, like Amanda was beautiful, but beautiful in every way that mattered. And Jake had lost everything that mattered to him. Life wasn't fair, that was for sure.

But he admired Jake. It would have been so easy for him to fall apart. But something kept him going. Jake said it was hate. Hate for Ellenbogen, hate for Mad Dog and every single thing he stood for. Not wanting them to win. Making sure that he never had to go into the army. Revenge, in a way. Man, that guy had cojones. But then no-one knew you like your bunkmate. No-one else heard you whimpering at night.

Willy's thoughts returned to the ring. He'd never seen so much money tied up in one little bauble. He'd never be able to afford anything like that for Hilda. And Jake had just left it there...

He sighed, checked his hair in the mirror one last time, and walked out of the barracks towards the bus stop.

**o0o**

The cab pulled up outside a large two-storey house with a neatly-trimmed lawn and a pathway bordered with a miniature white picket fence that wound sinuously up to the door. All the way from Buxton Ridge Kowalski had babbled on about how he was gonna make this chick.

_She's a real slut, Morgendorffer. I bet she'll put out tonight!_

_Too bad about her sister. They say she's a bookworm, probably as ugly as hell. But hey - you might get lucky and you don't look at the mantelpiece while you're stokin' the fire, eh, buddy?_

_I wonder if she's a 'real blonde'? Tell you what, Morgendorffer, I'll bring you back a sample!_

Jake felt revolted. Kowalski talked about her as if she was a piece of meat, a juicy steak to be devoured. What the hell did this sad little man know? Within the first few minutes of the trip Jake realised that he'd made a big mistake.

Kowalski got out and walked up the path towards the house.

"Your buddy's big man with the girls, huh pal?" said the cab driver, chomping on his cigar and eyeing Jake in the rear view mirror.

"It's an act," said Jake. "Poor guy. He tries so hard."

The cab driver's eyes widened, posing the question.

"Me and they guys, you know, we keep hooking him up with dates. He always gets really excited, like this - he has these fantasies, but he just can't...uh..."

"Can't deliver on the contract?"

"Yeah. Sad, isn't it?"

"He ain't packin' much perhaps?"

"Yeah, well, you know, you can't help noticing in the showers. But they say it doesn't matter and we keep hoping that one day..."

"Hey, pal - you're a good guy! You and your buddies - that's real nice of you what you're doin' for your pal there!"

"Thanks," smiled Jake. "That's what friends are for we always say. Oh - hey - here they come. I'll get in the front so he can sit with the girls. It might help, you know...?"

Jake jumped out and held the back door open while Kowalski and the two girls got in the back. The blonde was obviously Kowalski's date, so the brunette was the ugly sister.

If Jake knew anything about cab drivers and small towns, by the end of next week there'd be a whole lot of people talking about Kowalski's 'deficiencies'.

**o0o**

"It's not forever, babe."

Amanda dried her eyes. "I know. I guess I'm just nervous. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. And there's nothing to be nervous about. They'll love you."

"I hope so."

"If they don't then they're not worth worrying about."

Amanda smiled and sniffed. "Maybe. I really want to make a good impression. It's important to Vincent."

"What's Vinny told you about his family, babe?"

"Not much. He's convinced they'll love me. His Dad has always wanted him to take over the family business. He's got a sister, 'Neesy he calls her. He's really excited about 'presenting me' his Grandma's wedding band. I guess its a big thing with the family, passed down and just waiting for him to get married." Her expression changed. "I'm scared. They'll know Wind isn't his."

Willow thought for a minute. "You know, Amanda..." Amanda sat up. Willow never called her Amanda. "...you've got more guts than just about anyone I know."

"I...what?"

"I mean it. All that stuff I said before about giving up an easy life to keep your baby - to keep Wind. And you knew...in the cabin, didn't you? You knew what could have gone wrong?"

Amanda looked at the floor and nodded gently.

"I thought so. And you're worried about meeting your husband's family?" She grinned. "You could eat them for breakfast."

Amanda smiled back at her, but she knew that Willow didn't understand. Feeling a hand on her shoulder she turned to see Vincent standing behind her.

"Ready?"

She nodded and stood up.

"Well..." he said, looking at Willow and Coyote.

"Yeah." said Coyote.

There was no more to say.

The four of them hugged. Vincent picked up their sleeping baby and he and Amanda walked out of Willow and Coyote's apartment, down the stairs, climbed into the Willys, and drove away.

**o0o**

"Morgendorffer, this lovely lady is Rita, and her beautiful sister's name is Helen. Helen, you lucky girl, this handsome specimen of manhood is Cadet Jake Morgendorffer."

Jake turned, nodded to the ladies, and said curtly, "Rita, Helen. A pleasure." and turned back to the front.

During the rest of the trip Jake heard giggles from the back seat and snatches of conversation.

"...could be like if the _three_ of us...."

"...sense in being shy, now..."

"...sure you two have seen..."

Once the cab driver winked surreptitiously at Jake, as if to say "He's certainly gettin' himself worked up back there."

As the cab pulled up at the restaurant Jake jumped out and opened the door for Rita, then walked quickly round the back of the cab to hold the door open for Helen, walking her back to the sidewalk in time to hear Kowalski say "I always do, pal," as he paid the driver.

"That was weird," he said to Jake as he got out. "That guy winked at me and said 'think big, buddy'. What do you suppose he meant by that?"

"No idea, Kawalski," Jake muttered, taking Helen's arm and following Kowalski and Rita into the restaurant. "No idea."

For high school seniors in 1969 it was a fancy place. It had menus for one thing. And tablecloths. Jake could feel Kowalski's pain, and he relished every morsel of it as he scanned the menu for the most expensive items.

"So...Helen, wasn't it? See anything you like?" he asked, willing her to choose something exotic.

Jake unconsciously found himself staring at her. _Ugly sister? She's gorgeous._ That was the only word that Jake could think of. Through all the emptiness and despair inside, he was an eighteen year old boy. The difference -between Jake and Kowalski was that fizzing testosterone had lost its attraction for him. What enjoyment Jake was getting out of tonight centred around making sure that Kowalski paid as dearly as possible for his services. But Helen was beautiful. She seemed jittery though. She kept watching her younger sister with a nervous expression, and every now and then she'd...twitch.

Kowalski clearly wasn't wasting any time. He'd moved his chair around closer to Rita and spent more time whispering in her ear than he spent looking at the menu.

"Uh, like?" said Helen, turning to him, looking increasingly flushed. "Oh - the menu, uh, let me...eep!" She twitched again, and picked up the menu. _Maybe that's what Kowalski meant,_ Jake thought. S_he's got some kind of...condition. Shame. She's so pretty._

"Just a salad," she muttered after giving the menu a perfunctory scan.

"Hmm," Jake said. "Salad. Hey - there's one that sounds good! Maine lobster salad with Roquefort dressing! That sounds great." Jake had no clue what Roquefort dressing was, but anything that cost nearly ten dollars sounded good_._

"Yeah, fine," Helen said distractedly.

Rita was making a valiant attempt to read the menu, but she had to keep putting it down to push Kowalski's hands away.

"Kowalski?" Jake asked, distracting him for a moment.

"What?" Kowalski grunted, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

"What are you going to order?"

"Ah - I dunno. Steak. I'll have a steak. Order it for me, Morgendorffer. I'm goin' to where the big nobs hang out." He rose, laughing, and prodded Rita in the ribs. "Big nobs. Get it, Rita? I bet you do! All the time. Hah!" He walked off towards the bathroom.

Helen stood up too, saying "I'm going to fix my makeup."

Jake stood automatically and pulled her chair back for her as she stood, not noticing the surprised look on Rita's face or, for that matter, that Helen wasn't wearing any makup. He sat down as she left.

"Well, Cadet Morgendorffer, it seems that not all the Buxton Ridge crowd are pigs." she said.

"Pig...oh. Oh yeah. Kowalski's the head swine alright. But tell me, how long has Helen had, you know...?"

"Had what? What are you talking about?"

"You know, that, um, twitch thing she does?"

"Twitch thing...you mean...oh shit!" Rita laughed.

"Uh, did I say something funny?"

"She's not twitching you idiot. Your friend's playing 'footsie' with her under the table while he's trying to get his hand up my dress."

Jake turned bright red. "He's no friend of mine."

"Then why..."

"He said you had to take her along on your date and he needed someone to keep her occupied while he...uh..."

"I can guess. And he chose you. So you're - what - his best friend or something?"

"Me? Like I said, I hate the guy. I came because he offered to pay for all of us and I couldn't resist the chance to spend as much of his money as I could."

Rita looked at him with what might have been admiration. "I see. So, uh, what...?"

"New York cut steak, shoestring fries, and a side of French beans in garlic butter."

"You have style, Cadet. And Helen...no...let me guess..." She scanned the menu. "Lobster salad?"

"With Roquefort dressing. Whatever that is."

Rita laughed, just as the waitress arrived to take their order - two steaks with the works and two lobster salads. She left just as Helen came back from the bathroom. Jake stood and pulled her chair back for Helen to sit down, watched with interest by Rita.

Helen grunted at Jake and scowled at Rita. "Well this is certainly a memorable date. I must remember to thank Mom for making me come along."

Rita smiled unpleasantly. "Now Helen - you know she only did it so you'd be exposed to more...normal...things for a young lady to do."

"Oh yes," Helen said with mock enthusiasm. "I'm sure she'd much rather I turned out normal - like you! That must be why she offered me the giant family-size box of prophylactics before we left tonight!"

"Now that's what I like to hear," said Kowalski, kneeling between Rita and Helen, both of whom had been too involved to notice his return, while Jake had studiously studied the back of the menu. "It's good to know you've come prepared, sugar." Jake watched as he put his arm around Rita and, without any warning, ran his other hand up Helen's leg. "I've never had sisters before!"

"Oh!" Helen grunted, standing up suddenly and knocking her chair over. She picked up the jug of ice water on the table and emptied it over Kowalski's head, spilling half of it over herself in the process.

Kowalski leaped up, his face a mask of fury. "You SLUT!" he spat. His hand started swinging towards Helen's face, but it never connected.

Jake watched impassively as the red rage took over. His arm drew his fist back in slow motion, level with his shoulder, then slowly telescoped forwards to connect with Kowalski's jaw sending him reeling back into the low wall behind their table, where he folded up and slumped to the floor.

The rage withdrew almost immediately and he noticed Rita and Helen looking at him open-mouthed, just as the manager arrived.

"You punks from Buxton Ridge are all the same!" he hissed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you in! You'd better have enough money to pay for those fancy meals you ordered or your school's gonna hear about...."

"Excuse me," came firm female voice from behind him. The manager spun round to see an imposing and well-dressed woman standing behind him.

"What do you want?" he snapped, turning back to Jake, then back to the woman. "Uh, Mrs Ruttheimer. I'm so sorry madam. Please, sit down," he put his arm around her back to try to guide her back to her chair. "I'll deal with these ruffians, and I insist that your meal and Mayor Ruttheimer's are on the house tonight."

"I saw what happened," she said, resisting his attempts to turn her away. "This young gentleman..." she used the word very deliberately "...was protecting his date from the attentions of this...pig." She flicked a glance towards the unconscious form of Kawalski as an ice cube fell off his head onto the floor, then turned back to Jake. "Well done, young man," she smiled. "Your school should be proud to have a student who knows how to do the right thing. If this...man..." she indicated the manager with a dismissive glance, "...gives you any trouble, just tell your Principal to contact the Mayor's office." She turned to indicate a weedy little man sitting at the table she'd vacated. "My husband would be only too happy to vouch for you." She turned and sat down.

The manager turned and glared at Jake. "Get out," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Jake blushed and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet.

"Just...get..out!" repeated the manager, glancing nervously around at the faces of the diners who were, if their stares were anything to go by, enjoying the free entertainment.

Jake looked around uncertainly at Rita and Helen to see them looking up at him expectantly from their seats. There was nothing else he could but accept the role that he was expected to play. Gathering what small shreds of dignity he could scrape together he shrugged, and turned towards Helen and Rita. "Ladies?" he said, indicating that they should precede him and pulling the chair out for Rita. The girls walked out, followed by Jake, who murmered "Thank you," to the Mayor's wife as he passed, getting a broad smile in return.

"So. What now?" asked Rita as the stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

"What now?" snorted Helen. "Now we go home. Your great taste in dates has already embarrassed me enough for one night, not to mention the fact that I'm wet and cold and hungry."

Hearing Helen's words, Jake flashed back to a night over a year ago and another wet girl.

Rita looked at Jake who was staring into space with a blank expression, unconsciously rubbing his right hand with his left, then back to Helen. "Aren't you being a trifle...ungracious, big sister?"

Helen blushed and looked down at Jake's hand to see that it was bleeding, and a guilty groan escaped from her. "Uh, are you alright...Jake, wasn't it? Thanks for...you know..."

It took Jake a second to return to the present. He looked back and forth between Rita and Helen. "What? Oh - " he looked down at his hand to see that the skin was broken over the knuckles where they'd connected with Kowalski's jaw, and blushed, self-consciously slipping the bleeding hand quickly into his pocket. "Sorry. Hungry...dammit...I mean...cold...that is..."

Despite herself, Helen smiled at his embarrassment. Rita was more direct and slipped an arm through his. "Why don't we get something to eat? I'm starving!"

Jake turned to her. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" he said, taking off his jacket and turning back to Helen. "Put this round your shoulders. We'll find somewhere warm," and they walked off in search of food.

"There's a hamburger place round the corner," Rita said.

"How about Mexican?" mumbled Helen.

"Yeah - I could murder a chicken burrito!" Jake sighed, turning to Helen, who smiled at him and, as he turned back, poked her tongue out at Rita.

As she walked behind her sister and Jake, Helen clutched the jacket around her shoulders and struggled to fight a growing sense of disgust.

"Okay - Mexican. Down here!" Rita turned a sharp left into a short laneway between two streets. Halfway along a sign proclaimed _Viva Zapata_ in red neon above an unassuming red doorway. They walked in, welcomed by warmth contrasting with the cooling night, the delicious smell of Mexican cooking, and a smile wearing a short, fat man with black handlebar moustache.

"Senor, Senoritas. Table for three?"

"Yes, please," Jake said, looking round at a simple room with wooden floors, cheap prints of Mexican scenes on the walls and a dozen round tables covered red and white checked tablecloths, most occupied by couples or groups. Each table had a bottle coated in candlewax, with a candle flickering in each one. The moustache showed them to a table right outside the kitchen door where sounds of activity fought for attention with the spicy aromas. For the first time since his visit to the barn Jake felt happy and relaxed, though his knuckles were still stinging and he absentmindedly rubbed them while he looked at the menu.

"You are ready? Perhaps something to drink?" The waiter stood smiling, order pad in hand, behind Rita.

"Chicken burrito for me," Jake smiled. "And a Coke."

"Si, and the senoritas?"

"Er, I'll have tostados suiza and...yeah, Coke too," said Rita, handing him back the menu.

Helen stood up suddenly and handed Jake back his jacket. "Just a taco salad. And water. I'm going to the bathroom."

Jake turned to get up but by the time he'd started she'd gone. He stared after her for a minute, puzzled, then turned back to Rita. "Uh, was it something I said?"

"Don't worry about her," Rita shrugged as she watched Helen disappear through a door. "She's like that. Moody. Maybe it just that time of the month!" She whispered conspiratorially.

Helen stomped into the bathroom and stood scowling at herself in the small mirror above the washbasin, trying to control her anger. _Some boy soldier Nazi jerk punches out an even bigger boy soldier Nazi jerk as he tries to cop a feel, and you... _she thought. _Then he puts his damn warmonger jacket around your shoulders because you're cold and...and you..._

"Oh. Yeah." Jake laughed nervously.

"Let me see that hand, Jake. Is it sore?"

In the bathroom, Helen slapped her forehead with her open palm. _And you damn well melt like some goddamn KID for God's sake!_

Back at the table, Jake gave Rita his hand without thinking. She looked at it and gently prodded it as Jake winced. "I don't think you've broken anything." She looked into his eyes, still holding his hand. "That was really very impressive, Jake." She I guess they teach you all kinds of _manly_ things like that - hand to hand combat - is that it?"

Helen, meanwhile, batted her eyelashes at her reflection, and forced her face into a scowl of contempt. _"Oh - my hero!"_ _Next thing you know he's gonna be telling us how much he's looking forward to going to 'Nam! Yeah! That's the way he'll say it. 'I jes' cain't wait t' get me over t' 'Nam to shoot me somma them commie gooks!'_ She ran some water and splashed her face angrily, then noticed there were no towels, and stormed out back to the table, her face dripping.

"What? Hand to...no! I just..." Jake said, noticing Helen return.

Helen sat down and, as she hit the chair, noticed Jake's hand resting in Rita's. _Woah! You're as fast as they say you are, little sister._

"...did...what anyone would have done." Jake turned to Helen and noticed her face.

"Why Helen," purred Rita. "Did you fall in?"

"There were no towels. I wanted to wash my face," Helen blushed.

Jake stood up, pulling his hand from Rita's and wincing. He pulled an immaculately ironed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it, quickly opening it and covering her face to hide the fact that she was blushing, and clenched her teeth in disgust, then handed it back to Jake with a muttered "Thanks."

"Jake was just telling us..."

"Senorita!" the moustache said, putting a large plate of tostadas suiza in front of Rita, who looked a little peeved.

"Mmm - that looks great!" Jake enthused as he watched a large taco salad appeared in front of Helen.

"It certainly does," Rita purred, looking straight at him. Jake realised that she was rubbing her leg against his.

"Senor!"

Jake was mercifully interrupted as he turned to a plate of burritos smothered in melted cheese.

"Thighs - I MEAN THANKS," he gulped, hearing Rita chuckle and completely missing a look from Helen that could have sliced through six inch armour plate. As unobtrusively as he possibly could he slid his chair an inch or two around the table away from Rita and gratefully started attacking the food.

"Wow," he said between mouthfuls, "this tastes as good as it looks! How's yours?"

"Delicious," moaned Rita, glancing sideways at him as she slowly stuck out her tongue and licked a piece of avocado off her fork and into her mouth.

"Fine." Helen grunted, pushing a taco around with her fork.

"Great!" said Jake as enthusiastically as he could, noticing that somehow Rita's chair had moved closer to his.

"Shame your friend's missing out," Helen said before she realised that neither Jake nor Rita was going to pick up on the double meaning.

"He's not my friend, dammit!" Jake said, a touch of anger hin his voice. "He's typical of the kind of factory-made morons that parents send their kids to Buxton Ridge to be. He'll probably graduate with honours." He unconsciously rubbed his hand and his voice dropped. "I'll probably get expelled for tonight. Not that I'd care much."

Helen turned.

"His kind thinks violence and war are the answers to everything. He's had that punch coming...not that I ever planned on giving it to him..." He turned to Helen. "But I wasn't going to let him hit you!" Then back to Rita. "And that stuff he was saying about the two of you, well you know that wasn't right." He turned back to Helen who was staring at him open-mouthed. "Boy, Helen, you showed him too! I just wish I had a picture!" He grinned. "My friend Willie sure would love to have seen that."

"So, I guess you'll be signing up for the army just as soon as you get out of school," Rita said, trying the reclaim the high ground. "I just _love_ those uniforms. "

"Are you going to enlist?" Helen eyed him intently, her curiosity piqued.

"Not if I can help it," Jake said quietly. "I've had more than enough of the military. And I'm damn sure not gonna pour myself into the mould my father left for me. I plan on being in college next year."

Helen turned, hiding a smile behind a mouthful of salad.

"Gee, Helen," Rita said, leaning over Jake. "that salad really does look good! Can I..." She stabbed a piece of tomato on the side of the salad bowl nearest to Helen and the bowl upended itself in Helen's lap.

"Shit!" Helen hissed, standing up and letting the salad fall to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Rita exclaimed.

Jake leaped up, grabbed a napkin from the table and started wiping the dressing from the front of Helen's dress, suddenly turning bright scarlet as he realised what he was doing. He stood and handed the napkin to her.

Helen snatched the napkin and glared at Rita. "Ooooh!" she growled, heading off again in the direction of the bathroom.

"Tch, I'm so clumsy tonight!" Rita sighed, putting her hand on Jake's back and guiding him back into his chair and turning his stare back from Helen towards her.

"Uh, accidents happen," he muttered.

"And every cloud has a silver lining," she murmured, moving her chair in next to his and putting a hand firmly on his thigh. "You know, Jake, I was so scared of that awful man. I really do want to show my...appreciation..." She slid her arm up from the small of his back to his neck and pulled his head in towards her as she closed her eyes and puckered. Neither of them noticed that Helen had come back and was standing, watching them, a few steps back from her chair.

Jake broke away from Rita's grasp, looking flustered. "Uh, gee, Rita. I...I'm sorry that your date with Kowalski turned out like this, but...I'm Helen's date tonight and...and it just wouldn't be...you know...right." He blushed again.

"Oh, I understand." Rita said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Helen crept silently back to the bathroom, turned, and strode back to her chair.

Jake stood again when he saw her and pulled her chair back. "Did it come out?" He asked.

"Oh yes. I think it came out perfectly," Helen said, smiling at him.

**o0o**

"Let's see if I got this right, man. So this sexy blonde's got a death grip on your thigh. She's been layin' it on you all night, tryin' to kiss you and suggestin' heavily that she wants to give you a 'reward'...and you kick her in the crotch and tell her no deal because you're on a date with the ugly sister?"

Jake opened his mouth to speak.

"You want my advice, Jakey boy? They're always lookin' for targets down at the range. The guys'd get some movin' target practice - Lord knows they need it - and you'd get t' die useful. Sounds like a good deal all round t' me." Jake was staring at his boots but Willy saw that he was grinning.

"You should have seen the look on Kowalski's ugly puss when Helen dumped that bucket of ice water on his head. Man, I'll remember that look until the day I die."

"Stop changin' the subject, Morgendorffer. But yeah - I reckon I'd pay a heap to a' seen that. Not to mention to a' seen you flatten him. My - that must a' been a sight. So anyway, what happened after you gave little sister the brush-off?"

"Nothing much. I mean things sort of went downhill pretty quickly. I think Rita was pretty pissed. I paid for the meals - hey - that place is great by the way, you should take Hilda there - and got a cab back to their place. I walked them to the door and took the cab back here."

"Well, you blew it real good Jakey. That's one chance you're never gonna git again."

Jake just smiled.

"Don't look as if you're too cut up about it."

"After Rita opened the door and stormed into the house Helen turned round asked me if I wanted to go to a rally with her next Saturday."

Willy's eyes popped out. "The ugly sister? What'd you say?"

"I said yes of course. She's gorgeous. She kissed me on the cheek."

**o0o**

"You what?"

"I asked him if he wanted to come to the rally on Saturday." Helen kept working on her math assignment, ignoring the pained expression on Rita's face.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you this, buuuut..."

"Tell me what?" Helen continued nonchalantly.

"Well, I don't know..." Rita sighed. "I guess it's for your own good."

"Oh good. I was thinking that it was going to be for _your_ own good." Helen muttered, puzzling over a quadratic equation.

"I only have your interests at heart, Helen. When you're...more experienced...you'll understand these things."

Helen's eyebrow flickered imperceptably and she forced herself to look up with a pleading expression. "Will I? Really? Oh - I do so hope I will. Are you finally going to tell me how I can stay fresh all day?" She turned back to the book, studiously hiding from Rita the fact that in her mind she was hearing the roar of high-powered engines.

_"That was real fine, Ellen. Maybe I'll catch you at another show sometime. You make sure you come up and say hi! Let yourself out when you're ready."_

_She'd watched him get up and leave, holding her breath until he'd shut the trailer door behind him. Then she'd relaxed and let out the tear that had been trying to escape; simple homage to the realisation that in a moment of stupidity she'd lost something that she should have valued more, and that now it was too late. _

_She stood up and pulled her clothes on, sniffing once. She glanced in a mirror on her way out. They said you could tell. She knew it was stupid, and the fact that she'd stopped to look just made it worse._

Rita knew she was no match for Helen's acerbity. It was time to bring out the big guns. "I really hate to do this Helen, but I feel it's my duty as your sister to let you know what kind of person Jake is."

Helen put her pencil down and turned round in her chair to face Rita. "What do you mean?"

"Now don't blame me, Helen. I saw the way you were looking at him, but you have to know this. When you went to wash yourself off after that little accident with the salad, lover boy tried to make his move on me."

"No!" Helen tried to make it sound as concerned as possible.

"I'm much too embarrassed to tell you what he did, but if there'd been an ice bucket on the table I would have done exactly what you did. Didn't you see how angry I was when you came back from the bathroom?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, I did notice that you seemed a little peeved."

"A little peeved? My honour had been insulted!"

Helen looked up at Rita, her eyes wide. Her lip started trembling as the muscles of her face fought against themselves, but ultimately the flexors won out over the extensors and she burst out laughing. "Your...ho-ho-honor...in...in...SULTED! Aghhahhah!" Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Well!" Rita huffed. "If _you_ don't care that man you've invited to go out with on Saturday is a pig, I'm sure that Mom will!" She stormed out of the room.

Helen's laughter evaporated. "Rita...?" Her face fell. "Oh shit," she muttered.

"But Mom - it wasn't like that! He..."

"I said NO Helen, and that's final! You and some boy go about causing scenes in restaurants then you expect me to just let you go out with him? Now go and do your homework. I'm going to be late for bridge club."

Maureen Barkdsale closed the front door firmly and hurried off down the path, leaving Helen fuming and plotting how she was going to get back at Rita.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with Helen. She's even becoming a bad influence on little Amy. That girl made protest signs and was picketing the dinner table last week! I swear if it weren't for Rita I'd have no hope whatsoever for those three. You should _see_ the way boys flock around her. They know a lady when they see one."

"It must be a trial for you, dear. I'm so glad that my boys are at college now."

"Why," Maureen continued, "Helen's last date caused a public scene and got them thrown out! He had Helen throwing a pitcher of water overon poor Rita's date, and he seemed like such a nice young man when he picked her up. Then the ruffian started a public brawl! I was mortified when Rita told me about it. Can you _imagine_ what people must think of us?"

"Tell me, Maureen, you're not referring to the incident at Bailey's last Saturday night, by any chance?"

Maureen blushed. "I _knew_ it! I knew that the whole town would know about it! And it's been less than a week!"

"It's all right, Dear. But tell me - your Rita is a brunette, and Helen's a blonde?"

"No...it's the other way around - Helen's the brunette. What do you mean?"

"I was there, Dear. AIf that's the way it was described to you you've been badly misinformed."

"Misinformed? What do you mean?"

The twenty-five degree tilt of Earth's polar axis brought Spring to the world as it danced its way around the Sun. On this Spring Saturday two people strolled along a street on the outskirts of an ordinary American town and the air, as it so often did in Spring, smelled fresh and clean and the cool of the shadows only held out the promise of warmth in the next sunny spot on the sidewalk ahead. They were talking.

"...so Mom said she'd love to meet you."

"Really? Gee!"

"The mayor's wife's a real fan of yours. Mom said she said that you were "a lovely young man".

"Wow." Jake grinned.

"Mom's all about image. Mayor Ruttheimer's wife's talks about that scene in the restaurant every chance she gets - it's her 'story of the moment'." Helen made the 'quote' signs with her fingers. "As far as Mom's concerned that's free advertising."

"But I didn't really..."

Helen stopped. "You did, you know. That was...special, Jake. I hate violence. I don't think it solves anything. But sometimes...well..."

"I do too. I know it sounds corny but I don't know what came over me. I guess I just couldn't stand it any more."

"You know the best part?" Helen smiled.

"What?"

"Rita's grounded for three months."

Jake chuckled.

Helen stopped and turned to Jake, eying him closely. "Hm. We're going to have to make a few adjustments." She pulled Jake's tie from under his collar, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his well-ironed shirt, and ruffled his neatly-parted hair. She stood back, looking at him, then untied the leather thong from around her neck and fastened it around Jake's. He stood still, half-smiling, feeling the soft warmth of her hands on his skin, remembering...

"Almost...ah!" Helen wrapped the tie around his forehead and twined it under and over itself at the back to fasten it. "Not perfect, but you'll do," she said, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

Jake turned to look at his reflection in the window of a laundromat behind them and he was startled. Even with his close-cropped hair the headband and the thong around his neck made him...different. The neatly-ironed check shirt and perfectly-creased pants suddenly looked out of place, and he realised what he must look like to Helen, and he stared. His eyes flicked back and forth between his reflection and Helen's. She was lithe, her straight brown hair, face free of the artificiality of makeup, faded jeans and translucent maroon Indian cotton top open to the third button...there was something...free about her while, below the neck anyway, he could have stepped out of the last decade. Starched, pleated, constrained, restrained...but if he concentrated on things from the neck up...he suddenly felt the possibilities...

Helen was puzzled at the way he stood staring at the window, but slowly she understood a little of what was going on, and she let him look and imagine, and gently she put her hand in his.

He turned to her and smiled.

**o0o**

"I don't think he's hungry." Amanda buttoned up her top while Vincent held the struggling and screaming Wind.

"Maybe he's got wind."

Amanda glared at him, then laughed, realising that he hadn't been making a joke. "Maybe. Maybe it's just the long drive. He's not used to it." She took him back from Vincent and held him over her shoulder, gently patting his back. "Maybe we should think about stopping for the night."

Vincent looked at his watch. "Yeah. It's nearly seven. I thought we'd get a bit further today but it might be best if we stopped at the next town." He unfolded the map and did some quick calculations. "If we stop there we should get home about midday tomorrow. That'll be fine." He put the map back behind the seat and looked at Wind. "Poor little guy. I hate to see him unhappy."

Twenty minutes later they slowed down as the hit the town limits and cruised slowly along the main street. He slowed ouside a long white motel with a stucco fountain out the front and a sign proclaiming that it was the

_Motel Fontainbleau  
Color TV  
Pool  
Restaurant  
Vacancy_

"This'll do," he said, turning off the road onto a red gravel driveway lined with pink flowering oleanders. Amanda stared at the landscaped lawns and gardens, still bright in the twilight. "Honey, we don't need anything this fancy. It looks expensive."

Vincent's mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the corners. "It's okay. We've done plenty of camping out. Let's live a little. Besides, we're nearly home."

He stopped outside the office and went in. A couple of minutes later he came back out with a key on a wooden tag. "Room 105 - just over..." he looked round. "...there."

They parked outside a room directly in front of the pool. Vincent opened the door and let Amanda and Wind, who was still fussing intermittently, into a bright, clean room that was palatial compared to a tent or the cheap motels or trailer parks that they'd been used to when they were on the road. Amanda felt a twinge of guilt, but it was done now, and she made up her mind to enjoy it. There was a large double bed with a TV on a built-in wooden cabinet in front of it. She walked into the bright, pale blue-tiled bathroom with fluffy white towels draped over gleaming chrome rails, still holding Wind, who had calmed down now that he was out of the car. She smiled, thinking back to those few days on the road when the baby in her arms had still been an imperceptible bulge below her belly button. Worlds away.

Vincent brought in a folding cot and assembled it, then went back outside to get the rest of their luggage while Amanda changed Wind's diapers and lay him in the cot, where he gurgled contentedly.

"Hungry?"

Amanda thought for a minute. "Yeah," she smiled. "Want to run into town for a burger?"

"I thought we might try out the restaurant," Vincent said, scanning the motel's guide folder.

She gave him a quizzical glance. "What's going on, Vincent? We can't afford...."

He put his finger to her lips. "Trust me. We can. Stop worrying and let's eat."

Amanda shrugged, leaving it to him. And dinner in a restaurant really did sound good, still something rare and special. She smiled, put her arms around him and kissed him.

"That's all I get? A kiss?" he grinned.

"That's all you get for now. Let's see what the food's like. If it's good, you never can tell."

An hour later they walked contentedly back to the room just as Wind was waking up again. Vincent turned on the TV and flopped down onto the bed while Amanda fed Wind and put on a clean diaper. By the time she put him back in the cot he was sleeping soundly and she joined Vincent on the bed.

"So...?" He said.

"So what?" she answered innocently.

"So how was dinner?"

"Mmmm." She patted her stomach. "Great! What was that cheese?"

"Umm, Gruyere I think."

"It was good."

He turned, head propped on his hand. "So?"

She jumped up off the bed and ran to the window, bumping his arm out from beneath his head, and peering out at the night. "It's dark!"

"Yeah," Vincent responded from the bed. "It'll do that at night. That's why they invented light bulbs. Well - actually light bulbs were invented so that cartoonists'd have something to draw above characters heads when they had an idea. But that's what inspired Edison and Swan. Or so I believe."

She laughed. "There's a pool just outside our room."

"A pool? You want to go for a swim?"

She nodded.

"But we didn't bring any bathing suits."

Amanda was grinning.

"Oh." Vincent grinned back.

**o0o**

Helen had kept half an eye on Jake during the rally.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time but she'd wondered later in the week if the rally might be taking it too far, whether she should change the plan and suggest a movie instead. He was cute - more than cute. It'd be a damn shame, she'd though, if the rally was too much and she blew it.

But finally she'd decided to toss caution to the wind. Hell - if he was gonna be offended by it then it wasn't going to work anyway.

She watched Jake from across the booth in the ice cream parlour, playing with the long-handled spoon, digging little graves for peanut chips in his mound of vanilla ice cream.

Perhaps it _had _been a mistake. No matter what he'd said, he was at military school. It sounded as if his father had been a fascist of the first ilk. If Jake was starting to think for himself that was great, but the rally had probably been too much too soon. You couldn't just confront someone with so much in one hit. When that guy had burnt the flag...she'd watched the expression on his face, but she couldn't read it. He'd stared, transfixed. Was he angry? She couldn't tell, couldn't read him.

"Jake, are you okay?"

He looked up from his plate of ice cream as if he'd woken from a reverie. "Yeah, sorry. I was just...thinking." He looked at her brown eyes. "What are you going to do next year, Helen?"

"Oh, Political Science, English. Then law school. You?"

He looked back down at his ice cream. "I'm not sure. Economics perhaps. Accounting. Something like that."

"Uh, about the rally, Jake, I'm...sorry if it was...if you were upset..."

Jake looked up again, but this time he was focussed. "Upset? No. It didn't...upset me exactly, but..." he drifted off again. "...it made me think."

There was something odd about him. Something - some things - underneath him. She was curious.

They finished their sundaes - at least Helen finished hers - and she stood beside him, watching, as he put the bowls back on the counter and paid for them. As they left, he stopped and turned to a glass fishbowl on the counter full of matchbooks, looked at it for a second or two, then took one and put it in his shirt pocket.

"You don't smoke do you?" and she noticed the way he smiled, almost sadly, as he shook his head.

"I just wanted a souvenir."

"So...was that our first date?"

He was back again, smiling. "I guess it was. Hey - 'first' date...does that mean..?."

"Next weekend? Sure!" Helen gritted her teeth internally, hoping she was making the right decision.

"What? Movies?"

"Depending on what's on. Or we could just walk, whatever."

"That'd be nice."

He smiled, but a little wanly she thought. What was he thinking?

"Do you know what my friend Willy calls you?"

That was better. "No. What?"

"The Ugly Sister."

"What?" Mock indignation. "What have you been telling him? Is that what you..."

"No! No, it's a joke. He was ribbing me about the double-date with Kowalski, and it sort of stuck."

"So what have you been telling him about me?"

"I told him you're gor...great. Very nice." She saw that he was blushing again. "He wants to meet you. He said anyone who dumped an ice bucket over Kawalski's head was someone he wanted to meet."

They walked back to Helen's house, chatting and sometimes laughing, though Helen felt that there was still something holding him back. Maybe not. Maybe it was just the way he was. They stood on her front step, both feeling a little awkward, when the door opened.

"So. This is soldier boy eh? Not bad I suppose. Let me give you some advice, General Patton. Lose the headband."

Helen sighed and rolled her eyes. "Jake, this is my late little sister, Amy."

"Er - late?" Jake asked.

"Soon to be late," Helen growled.

"Hey! No fair! I thought you were a pacifist," Amy protested.

Jake turned and looked down at the short kid with freckles, glasses, and long, brown curly hair standing at the door. "How old are you, Amy?"

"Nine going on forty," sighed Helen.

"Depends," Amy grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," Jake said, "it's been a long time since I was nine..."

"Nearly ten, Grandpa."

"Like I said. What do you want to be when you grow up, Amy?"

"A spy."

Jake laughed. "A spy! Now that's different!"

"Well, not a spy exactly, more like M than 007, but with all of Q's toys. Kill a few bad guys, break a few hearts. Not like Bond's bimbos of course." She looked up at Helen's chest. "Not that I haven't got the genetic makeup for it. Just needs a few years, is all. But I'd sorta like to give meaning to the term 'military intelligence'. I figure I'll have a few affairs and maybe look to settling down to write my memoirs about thirty-five, forty, just before the biological clock runs out. You don't want to burn all your bridges after all." She looked thoughtful. "Not that I'd be able to publish them of course - state secrets and all that. But you gotta leave something for future generations to make movies about, doncha?"

Jake looked at her, wide-eyed.

"What? You expected 'nurse' or 'teacher'? Maybe 'zookeeper'?" A pained expression crept over Amy's face. "Oh no! Not 'mommy'? Please - not 'mommy'!"

"I, uh..."

"Get real, General Patton. I'm not gonna burn my bra - I'm not gonna _buy_ a bra!"

Jake blushed furiously.

Amy looked up at Helen. "He's cute. You could do worse."

"Sorry about that," Helen sighed. "She went to the Bond marathon last weekend. Last time she had the sniffles she was going to cure the common cold."

"Amy!"

Amy turned round to see he mother hurrying towards the door. "Are you being rude to your sister's friend?"

"No, Mama."

"I should hope not! Now you run along and let us talk."

"Yes, Mama. I'll go play with my dollies," Amy said, throwing a surreptitious wink at Jake.

"Good girl." Maureen smiled as Amy walked off and turned to beam at Jake just in time to miss Amy turning back and poking her tongue out at him. "They're such innocent little lambs at that age. And you must be Jake. Helen's told me so much about you. And Mrs Ruttheimer, that's the Mayor's wife - we play bridge together every Friday afternoon - told me all about that terrible incident and how bravely you protected my girls It seems we're all in your debt."

Jake's blush gland was just about empty but he managed to squeeze out a few more drops. "Well, I...um...that is I..."

"Oh yes. It was frightening. I don't know what we'd have done without Jake," Helen gushed, rescuing him from a potentially difficult situation. "But I'm afraid Jake has to get back to barracks before curfew, haven't you, Jake."

"Curfew? But it's aaggh."

"Yes, they're terribly strict," Helen leaped in, removing her foot from on top of Jake's.

"Oh my - of course! We mustn't make you late now, must we? Well, Jake, I'm delighted to meet you. Will you join us for dinner next Saturday night?"

"Oh, I'd be very aarrgghhhh..."

"Jake's just asked me to go to the movies with him on Saturday night, Mom, but perhaps he could come a little early to pick me up and we could have a short - a very short chat before we have to leave."

"Of course, dear, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to say goodbye. See you next week, Jake." She smiled knowingly and closed the door.

"I'm sorry, Jake. I just didn't want Mom do her usual trick and take over. I'm so sick of the way she does that!"

"I guess I should say thanks, but I'm not sure if my instep could stand it."

It was Helen's turn to blush.

"It's okay. But you know I would have enjoyed a home-cooked meal."

"Really?"

"No. I just wanted to make you feel guilty."

"Mission accomplished," she said. "And, um, about the foot..." She looked around, leaned in, and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Forgiven?"

His grin gave her his answer.

"Five o'clock next Saturday?"

"Sure. What's on at the movies?"

"Who cares?"

Jake walked slowly back to school, shaking his head. What a family. But Helen made up for it. She was so...up front. He put his hand up to feel his neck where she'd tied the thong around it and realised that he hadn't given it back to her. He buttoned his shirt and unwound the tie from his forehead, then started to put it back on around his collar, but stopped, shrugged, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Scenes of the rally played out before his inner eye as he walked. So much to take in, so unfamiliar that much of it passed him by. But there were snatches he remembered. He'd had no idea that the Viet Nam war was a continuation of something colonial that France had been involved in for years. The "domino theory" - he'd understood that. Ellenbogen talked about it. "Let the commies win in Viet Nam and the dominos in the rest of Asia fall." But today they'd talked about it as a civil war, one that had been going on for years before America had become involved. And napalm. Dow Chemicals. Jeez - he'd cringed as the woman had talked about the effects of burning jellified gasoline on human flesh.

But one image overwhelmed all the others.

A burning flag.

When he was a kid his teachers had taught him about George Washington and the cherry tree. "I cannot tell a lie," he'd said. Abraham Lincoln. The Gettysburg Address. _Four score and seven years ago..._ The Civil War. Freeing the slaves. It had made him proud to be an American.

But standing there listening to them talk about the My Lai massacre (and wasn't 'Me Lie' such a fitting name for it he thought) he'd felt ashamed. And as he he'd watched them burning the flag he remembered being angry; disgusted - but then he listened to what they were saying, and had looked at the hostile people shouting at them, looked at their signs, listened to what they were shouting. _America. Love it or leave it._ He could see Mad Dog's face on every one of them, and he realised that they didn't understand.

Burning the flag wasn't a symbol if hatred. It wasn't a rejection of America. It was rejection of the people who claimed to speak for America - the Mad Dog Morgendorffers; the Corporal Ellenbogens. Not hatred of America. Hatred of the lies that led American soldiers to walk into a Vietnamese village on March 16 last year and murder over 500 unarmed men, women and children.

_America_ they'd screamed - _Love it or leave it!_

But when you see something you love bleeding to death you don't leave it.

You try to heal it.

They weren't destroying the flag - they were claiming it back. He'd looked at the people shouting at them...angry, red faced, Mad Dog's generation. But the people at the rally were _his_ generation, and his hand unconsciously went to the thong around his neck.

When Jake got back to school the barracks was empty and he walked quickly to the footlocker at the end of his bunk. Shifting things around he reached to the very bottom and pulled out what he was looking for. He didn't know what had possessed him to bring it, it could have easily stayed at home, Hell, even in the office. But it had been passed to him and he'd kept it. But it wasn't a symbol of his country any more. This was a symbol of his father, of the future Mad Dog had mapped out for him, of the lies that had driven Amanda away.

And now he had to say goodbye to that, just as he'd said goodbye to Amanda - to claim the future back for himself.

He walked out of the barracks across the empty parade ground, silent in the late afternoon light, to the one place at Buxton Ridge that had any meaning for him - the obstacle course, too full of his purpose to notice that he was being followed.

The course was deserted. He stood near the ropes and watched as the sun sank lower the sky. He took the bulky triangle out from under his arm and looked at it, really looked for the first time. It was beautiful. Slowly Jake came to realise that he was making a choice now, a big one. He unfolded the flag and watched as it fluttered in the breeze. He held it high, making sure it didn't touch the ground, then laid it over one of the metal bars. He pulled out the matches, held his breath and struck it along the back. The match flared, and he lifted it to the corner of the flag, holding till it caught, then stepped back.

The breeze died down and the flames started to grow, licking up the material slowly at first then higher and faster. Jake could only stand and watch, transfixed. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn't even realise it. He didn't know how long it took, only that when it had finally burned itself out the sun had nearly sunk below the horizon. Standing amid the blowing ash and ambers, Jake spoke aloud, "I won't be what he tried to make me, ever," and as the last rays of sunlight disappeared he turned and walked back to the barracks, completely unaware of the fact that he'd been watched.

**o0o o0o**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** as always, to our beta readers, whose wonderful eye for detail and nuance has improved both the story and the telling: Malevolent Turtle, Kara Wilde, Brother Grimace, Jurassic. Hugs, guys.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	9. Family Business

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 9: Family Business 

**o0o o0o**

The Willys turned into a paved driveway through a gap in a high and neatly-trimed fir hedge. Verdent lawns planted with sweet gum and sycamore sloped gently up to a long, flat-roofed two storey house with picture windows overlooking manicured grounds.

Amanda swallowed as Vincent stopped the car under a wood-panelled portico at the bottom of three wide steps that led up to a leadlight-panelled front door. Holding Wind, she slowly opened the car door and got out, peering around at the house, mentally comparing it and its grounds with the little cottage she'd grown up in with its small front yard, cracked pathway, and peeling paint. The thoughts triggered a sudden and unexpected wave of nostalgia. She felt Vincent's arm around her waist and looked around to see him smiling at her. Feeling his excitement she smiled back at him as they climbed the steps to the door.

Vincent put his finger to the doorbell and a chime sounded faintly somewhere inside the house. In the seconds that passed Amanda found herself hoping that there'd be nobody home - that they'd have to turn round and drive back to San Francisco; back to their little apartment where Wind's toys would still be lying about on the floor of his crib and...

The door opened.

"Vincent, sweety!"

The first thought Amanda had when she saw Vincent's mother was that she was tall. As she hugged Vincent, though, she realised that she and Vincent's mother were about the same height, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her seem taller. Her short auburn hair, greying at the temples, was brushed back and held in place by a simple tortoiseshell comb.

They hugged in a much more formal way, Amanda noticed, than the friendly hugs between the two of them and Willow and Coyote.

"And this," she said, looking over Vincent's shoulder at Amanda, "must be Amanda and...Wind, was it? What a charming name." She smiled and held out her hand. Amanda felt herself blushing furiously as she fumbled to hold Wind in her left arm to take Vincent's mother's hand in her right. She hadn't known what to expect, but a handshake was definitely off the list and she felt very out of her depth.

"I'm very happy to meet you Mrs Lane."

Vincent's mother laughed gently. "Please, Dear. Call me Veronica." She looked down at Wind and smiled. Her words and the manner were welcoming, but Amanda still felt a sense of discomfort.

"Veronica," she said nervously, "thank you. I..."  
  
"Vinny, welcome home, son!"

Vincent's father, taller by half a head than his wife but the spitting image of Vincent as Amanda imagined he'd look at fifty - suave, assured, strode up with his hand outstretched, oblivious to Amanda's presence. She watched as they shook hands. Wind squirmed and whimpered, and Vincent immediately turned to her.

"Dad, this is Amanda, my wife, and our son, Wind."

Amanda forced her most charming smile, and held it unnaturally for what seemed like minutes as Vincent's father looked her over in a glance, and smiled back at her. "Amanda, delighted to meet you", he said, making no attempt to approach her.

Wind whimpered again and Veronica turned back to her. "He's probably hungry. Vincent," she said. "I've put Amanda and Wind in the guest room. Why don't you show her in, Dear, and bring the things in from the car? Your room's just as you left it. Come and join us out the back when you're settled in." She looked at Amanda. "Do you need to make up a formula for him, dear?"

"No," Amanda said nervously, "I'm br..."

"Of course you are, Dear." Veronica interjected. "Back to nature and all that. It's all the rage these days, isn't it?"

"Uh, I...guess so," Amanda replied.

_What would Willow have said, _she wondered, blushing. _"Maybe, but I do it because breast milk's the perfect food for babies. It delivers all the antibodies that the baby needs to protect it from disease and that I'm not supporting the military-industrial complex and its food cartels. Do you know that they're killing babies in the third world by promoting bottle feeding as "modern"? Lots of those babies die of cholera because the water they mix the formula with is contaminated with sewage. Not to mention that I feel closer to my son than you could possibly imagine when he's breastfeeding." And I say "I guess so"._

Vincent turned quickly and took Wind from her. "Come on, Honey," he said, leading her towards the stairs as his mother and father watched. At the top of the stairs he led her to the right to a room at the end of the hallway. He opened the door and they walked into a large room with a long window overlooking a pool in the back yard.

Vincent stared at the bed, puzzling over the fact that there'd alway been two beds in there up until now, and he was just about to say something about it when he saw the look on Amanda's face as she sat down heavily on the bed, still holdinig Wind in her arms.

"Honey?" He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. "What's up?"

She looked at him, thinking about how he'd been talking about this for weeks, getting more and more excited as the day got nearer. The expensive motel, the nice dinner - it made sense now - the closer he got to home the easier it was for him to remember where he'd come from. He'd never complained, never expressed any dissatisfaction with the frugal realities of their life. He'd done anything and everything he could to make their lives comfortable. The cake, the flowers. _Gods_, she thought, _I love him_.

"Nothing. I guess I'm tired too," she said, smiling at him. "I'd better feed Wind."

Vincent returned an embarrassed smile. "Uh, look, I'm sorry about the seperate rooms. I didn't think...well, it's hard, you know. I mean I've never talked about...sex...with Mom and she's...well...I guess she's old fashioned. Do you mind? It's not for long?"

_You're my husband. Would your mother make visiting married friends sleep in seperate rooms?_ "No. It's fine. I understand."

"Thanks," he grinned and, kissing her on the forehead, left to bring their luggage in from the van.

o0o

As he walked up the path Jake's hand involuntarily reached up to straighten his tie before he realised that he wasn't wearing one. He stopped, wondering if Helen might not be pleased if her Mom or Dad opened the door to see him wearing Helen's thong around his neck. _Still, _he thought, _a thong's a thong. Everyone wears them, _and he walked the final steps to the front door. His heart beat a little faster, whether from nervousness at seeing Helen's parents or seeing Helen he wasn't sure.

He raised his hand to the doorbell

"NO!"

He pulled his hand away from the button, hearing the sounds of an argument inside. Whatever it was, Helen was against it.

"But Mu-om!" He recognised Rita's voice. "I've got an assigment due and if I don't get the library it'll..."

"You've had all week to get that done, Rita. Why should I have to..."

"You just want me to fail this history assignment so that..."

"What? You think I want to tag along on your date with General Patton? Hold on while I get a knife so I can do something fun like perform a hysterectomy on myself."

Jake grinned, hearing Amy's voice. He'd liked Amy as soon as he'd met her - maybe even admired her. When she came out with that stuff about being a spy he'd thought back to how he was at ten. There was no way he could have said anything that clear and confident. She was a probably hell to live with but since he didn't have to do that he was free to share her jokes on an almost equal level. He almost shuddered thinking about how smart she'd be when she got to his age. _Scary. How would you ever handle someone like that?_

"I can just imagine... 'Ooh General Patton - kiss me!' 'Ohh, Heleny-Weleny!'"

"Amy!" (_Helen's mother_, Jake thought, his finger hovering.)

"Well I don't wanna spend my afteroon with those two dorks! I bet they're gonna see The Love Bug or some crappy Disney movie!"

"Well if you're tagging along, short stuff, that's about all we'll get to see! Mom - tell Rita..."

Silence fell as Jake pushed the button, and the sound of muffled exclamations and hurrying feet came from inside. A second later the door opened. Helen glanced quickly back into the room and turned to Jake.

"Hi. Did you...."

He saw her eyes light on the thong around his neck, and her eyes met his and smiled.

"...hear any of that?"

"Uh, I, um, heard something going on but I didn't..."

"Jaaaaake! How lovely to see you. Come in."

"Oh - hi Mrs Barksdale." Jake smiled at Maureen and walked in, looking around. "Gee, what a lovely house."

"Why, thank you dear! Now Jake - I have a little favour to ask of you..."

"Mom! Please!" Helen whined.

"Helen - I'm absolutely certain that Jake wouldn't mind..."

"Er, sure Mrs Barksdale. Anything at all," he said.

Helen glowered at him.

"It's just that I have to go out this afternoon and poor Rita's been working so hard on a homework assignment. She'd promised to look after dear Amy, but she has to go to the library and I wondered whether..."

_Damn, Mom! That was completely underhanded! _Helen thought.

"We'd take Amy along with us? Uh, sure." He quickly took a step away from Helen, avoiding a foot that never came.

Maureen beamed. "There! See? What did I tell you, Helen? Thank you, Jake. I'll go and tell Amy - she'll be so pleased" She hurried off.

Helen looked apologetically at Jake. "I'm sorry. She really trapped you into that."

Jake smiled. "It's okay! I like Amy. She's funny and really smart - if the movie's a drag she'll liven things up. I really don't mind. Besides, it doesn't hurt to get on your Mom's good side."

Amy blushed and felt a little twinge of guilt as she slipped out from behind the curtain and circled round the back of the house to the kitchen.

Helen couldn't resist smiling back as her mother came back into he room. "I don't know where that girl's gone off to. I swear she'll bury me yet. Amy!"

"What's up Mom?" Amy said, emerging from the kitchen. Looking at Jake, she said demurely "Hi Jake. It's nice to see you you again."

Helen stared at her little sister in surprise. "Amy?"

"Yeah? What's wrong? Damn - you people are acting weird today!" Then, turning to Jake again, "So you got conned into taking me to the movies I guess, Jake. Um, what are we going to see?"

Jake grinned. "The Love Bug! Won't that be great?"

Amy blushed again. "Oh - yeah. I've been wanting to see that."

"Great," he grinned. "Let's go then."

Helen turned to her mother, scowling and holding out her hand. "Mom...?"

"Oh, yes, of course dear," Maureen said, handing Helen the keys to the car.

Jake turned and held the door open for the girls. Helen stared inquisitorially into his eyes as she passed but his face was the picture of innocence.

o0o

Willy always felt a little ambivalent about walk into Gilberts Malt Shop these days. Once he'd been stopped in his tracks, seeing the back of a blonde head sitting just where she'd sat that day, and he had to force himself not to run up to her. As he'd passed her he saw what he knew would be true, but it had been a shock and ever since he'd felt a sense of unease whenever he met Hilda there and he looked forward to the day when they wouldn't have to. It was a shame. He was sorry that he'd never really be able to think of it, years from now, with the sort of quiet pleasure that was one of those things you were supposed to be able to do about the place where you met your true love. He suspected that Hilda probably felt the same. They didn't talk about it.

He was a regular these days and when he walked up the counter Rosie greeted him with a cheery "Hi Willy. Meeting Hilda again?"

"Nope, not this time," he said, returning her smile. "I wanna ask if you can do something for me, Rosie."

She put down the glass she was holding. "Sure. What's up."

Willy blushed. "I wanna propose to Hilda, and I...well, I sort of thought it'd be nice to do it here, make it special, you know?"

Rosie grinned. "Why Willy! You romantic man, you!" She leaned over the counter to him and asked, conspiritorially, "What did you have in mind?"

"Uh, I dunno, really. I sort of thought that I'd like to have some special treat for her. You know how much she likes the stuff you make..."

Rosie thought for a minute. "Hold on," she said, taking off her apron. "Look after the tables, April," she called to her daughter, who nodded to her as she came round to the other side of the counter. "Come with me, Hon," she said, leading him to the back of the store where she opened a dark wood-panelled door in the back wall.

"This is a room we use for private functions - you know - birthday parties, that sort of thing. You could use this. We could do it up real nice, and make something special for you."

Willy looked around. The room ran for half the width of the shop. There were high windows in the back wall that let the light in but, like the door, it had dark wood panelling on the walls which made it sort of...sophisticated. He grinned. "This'd be perfect, Rosie!"

"We could set up a table for two, white linen tablecloth, flowers. It'd be real nice."

"Yeah! Yeah! Rosie - this is great!"

"How about food then? What do you think she'd..."

They looked at each other, and said at the same time "Chocolate cake!"

"Tell you what, Willy, I'll make one of my special triple chocolate cakes."

"Triple chocolate? How's that?" he asked.

"Well, it's a real rich chocolate cake. I slice it into three layers and put chocolate icing between them, then I put it back together and cover it with deep whipped chocolate frosting with cherries on the top. I only make it for special occasions."

"Aw, Rosie, if she doesn't accept m' proposal after that then I ain't never gonna be married!" All of Willy's teeth grinned at once, threatening to damage the fittings.

"It's a deal then. Next Saturday?"

"Yeah. Say, two o'clock?"

"No problems, Honey."

"Oh, uh, how much is it gonna cost me, Rosie?"

"Well," she said, sucking in her breath through her teeth. "The cake's expensive, Hon, twelve dollars, but I tell you what - you and Hilda are my best cusomers and I'm gonna miss you both real bad when you graduate. You can have the room for nothin' and I'll throw in one o' them ice cream sodas that Hilda always orders." She looked at him. "Hey - don't you go grinnin' any wider, Willy! I'll have to charge you extra if you scratch the furniture!"

Willy guffawed, but then his expression turned serious. "Rosie, there's one more thing I'd like t' ask."

"Sure Honey."

He put his hand into his pocket. Wrapped in a clean handkerchief, his fingers traced the outline of a hard shape. Almost reverentially he took it out and unwrapped it.

"Wow! You're serious, ain't ya, Honey."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I am. Could you put this on top of the cake?"

"I've gotta say, Willy, it's an unusual order, but sure! Why not? A sparkler like that - it'll probably sink into the frosting some, but sure."

o0o

Amanda watched Vincent go, wanting to scream in anger and frustration. She stood up and walked over to the window. The pool sparkled in the early afternoon sun and, as she watched, a body appeared in the water from under the porch awning that blocked the pool immediately beneath the window, swimming in a languid breaststroke. A woman. Not Veronica - wrong colour hair. Neecy? Probably. She sighed, turning back to the bed where Wind was starting to complain that it was dinnertime and he wasn't being fed. Would the meeting with Vincent's sister be as catastrophic as meeting his parents had been, she wondered? Probably.

She undid the strap on her dress and picked Wind up. He ate hungrily and she relaxed, staring at the wall, letting her mind drift in aimless meditation.

"Honey?"

"Uh huh. I'm feeding Wind. Come in."

Vincent opened the door and turned to close it behind him, a suitcase in his hand and the bag containing Wind's collapsible cot over his shoulder.

"Neecy's here," he said, putting down the suitcase and cot bag. "She's gone for a swim."

"Mmm hmm. I saw her out of the window."

"Her fiancee's here too. His name's Trevor. He's a pretty weird guy but he's into what Neecy's into and I think that's why they get along. She's been unlucky with guys."

"Uh huh. What's she into then?"

He unzipped the bag and started to take out the wooden cot struts. "Hats."

"Hats?"

"Yeah." He turned and took out the rest of the cot. "Weird. Hats - really, really weird hats. You'll see."

As he lay the parts of the cot on the floor he said "Is everything okay? I mean apart from the separate rooms?"

Amanda looked down at Wind. _It's only for a few days, _she thought. "I'm just a bit nervous I guess."

"Yeah - I guess my folks can be a bit overpowering when you first meet them, but you wait. They'll love you when they get to know you."

"I hope so."

Vincent finished assembling the cot . "I'll bring the rest of the stuff into my old room and put the car in the garage. Come out the back when you're ready." He smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and closed the door quietly as he left.

Amanda slipped back into her mental drift as Wind continued to feed. As much as she didn't want him to finish, he eventually did and fell asleep almost instantly. She put him down gently in the cot and quietly unpacked a few things, recognising that she was delaying the inevitable. Standing in front of the mirror she ran a brush through her hair and, checking to see that Wind was well settled for his nap, walked out onto the landing to look for the bathroom, leaving the door open so she could hear Wind if he woke, though he usually slept soundly for an hour after a feed. As she walked towards the room that Vincent had indicated was his a door opened and a woman, maybe two years older than Vincent, with brown curly hair stepped out drying her hair with a towel. She turned to Amanda and looked at her, her face blank as she took in the visitor.

"You must be Amanda," she said unemotionally.

"Yes," Amanda replied. "Neecy?"

A flicker of annoyance passed over the other's face. "It's Bernice."

Amanda blushed. "Sorry. Bernice. I'm pleased to meet you."

Bernice looked Amanda up and down again, with what Amanda interpreted as disdain. "Yes. Well, no doubt we'll be seeing more of each other over the next couple of days. Where's the baby?"

"He's sleeping. I've just fed him," Amanda said, smilling, pleased to know that someone at least was interested in their son.

"I hope he doesn't wake me up at night," Bernice said. "I'm a light sleeper. Please try to keep him quiet."

Controlling her disappointment Amanda said as politely as she could, "I'll do my best. Could you tell me where the bathroom is, please?"

Bernice pointed to a door. "It's there."

"Thank you," Amanda said coldly, and walked past Bernice in the direction she'd indicated.

o0o

Figuring that it must have been providence that made him notice that The Love Bug was showing downtown Jake bought three tickets, grinning at the thought of the trick he'd managed to play in Amy. They found their way to seats in the seventeenth row, about halfway back. The lights went down and the promos came on as Jake fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a five.

"Wanna go get some popcorn and candy before the main feature starts?" he asked, handing the money to Amy.

"Oh, yeah, but it's okay - Mom gave me some money to..."

"Don't embarrass me, Kiddo. It wouldn't be right if I didn't pay for both my dates tonight. And it looks as if this is gonna be way more fun than the last time I dated the Barksdale sisters."

Amy laughed and, smiling at him, took the money and edged her way out of the row of seats, thinking that Jake was a pretty cool guy. It was the "smart" that had done it. He'd said it like it was a good thing. "Kiddo," she muttered, smiling a little and shaking her head. "What a dork."

Helen turned to Jake. "Okay Mister Smartypants - spill the beans."

Jake grinned. "I heard most of the, um, discussion. I wasn't eavesdropping or anything - you were talking pretty loudly - I couldn't help it. But I really don't care. I meant it when I said I like Amy - she's cool. Besides," he said, trying to retrieve the situation, "I'm sitting next to you. I don't care what's showing or who I'm with."

"Oh, You silver-tongued devil!" Helen purred, taking his hand and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

Amy, meanwhile, came back into the darkened theater holding a giant box of popcorn in one hand and three Three Musketeers bars in the other. As she turned the corner she heard a familiar voice in the dark.

"...so I told her I had to go to the library."

Recognising the outline of her sister's head against the screen, Amy slid into the row of seats behind her and sat down quietly, leaning forward to hear what Rita was saying.

"The library?"

Amy didn't recognise the boy Rita was with. Not that she expected to. Rita hadn't earned her reputation as the town bike for nothing.

"Yeah! Can you believe it! Talk about gullible! And I palmed the shrimp off onto my other sister and her date, who's a real creep. So I get three for the price of one! I ruin Helen's date, I mess up Amy's day - there's nothing she'd rather not do than spend time with either of us - and I get to be here with you, Andy."

Rita watched as she turned and looked into Andy's eyes. Their faces got closer...closer...and Amy was seized with the desire to pour to box of popcorn over their heads as their lips met but she resisted the temptation, figuring it was likely to get better before it got worse. After a minute they parted and Amy saw Rita wriggle.

"Ooh - well, I _am_ supposed to be studying anatomy..."

_That's it - I'm out of here _Amy thought, quietly edging out and getting back to her seat just as the main feature began. Not even the genius of Walt Disney's finest screenwriters could compare with the scenes that took shape in the subtle mind of Amy Barksdale as she looked up and smiled.

She hurried back to where Helen and Jake were sitting and handed them the popcorn and a Three Musketeers bar each. "I'm going back to sit with some of my friends," she whispered. "I'll leave you two alone to do whatever it is that people with active hormones do in the movies."

Jake grinned, whispering a "Thanks, Kiddo" and, reaching into his pocket, he stuffed another five into her hand. She smiled at him and hurried off.

Helen looked at him in surprised. "Bribery! So that was your plan! Jake Morgendorffer - you're more cunning than I gave you credit for."

Jake smiled as Helen squeezed his hand, more than happy to acccept the underserved compliment.

Amy walked back to the concession stand and bought a box of Jujubes, a box of Snocaps and, as an afterthought, another box of popcorn to replace the one she'd left with Helen and Jake, to eat during the entertainment. Arms full, she walked to the side of the foyer and up the stairs to the balcony. The theater was half empty and she easily made her way to the front row where she chose a likely-looking seat. Peering over the top of the rail in front she moved one seat to the left and ate a handful of warm buttered popcorn.

As the main feature started and she opened the box of Snocaps and took one out, feeling its weight in her hand. Leaning forward again, she closed one eye and sighted down her fingers, estimating the trajectory that the hard candy would follow when released, dropped it, and sat back. She was rewarded a second later by a loud "Damn!" from below.

Amy smiled contentedly. It was going to be a good movie.

o0o

As they walked downstairs for dinner, Amanda stopped and stared. On the hall stand hung a hat, its broad brim was covered with screen printed flowers in pinks and reds and yellows, the crown a mass of twisting and interweaving shapes, hard to distinguish from one another in their complexity. She ghasped.

Vincent sighed. "See. I told you they were weird. Bizarre in fact."

"Incredible!" Amanda said, staring at the hat and oblivious of the fact that Bernice and her fiancee, Trevor, had walked silently up behind them.

Bernice glared at the back of Amanda's head and took a breath ready to lambast her brother and his "friend". She was so sick of people making fun of her hats. Only Trevor understood. She was interrupted by Amanda.

"Bizarre? It's beautiful! The brim's pure Warhol but the crown - I'm trying to think..."

"Ryman perhaps?"

Amanda and Vincent spun round to see Bernice, her scowl fading to surprise as she turned towards Trevor.

"That's it!" Amanda grinned. "Robert Ryman!"

"Trevor," he said, smiling and extending a hand. "I'm impressed. Ryman's hardly known outside New York."

"Amanda," she replied, taking his hand and almost wincing at its limpness in hers. "I don't know much about him, but I love what he's doing - he's part of the reinvention movement, if you could call it that. I think he's got more depth than Warhol, but I love the way the milliner juxtaposed the two styles. There's almost a synergy about it. It's brilliant!"

Trevor's eyes widened. "Do you think there's any confluence between Ryman and Richter?"

Amanda's brow wrinkled. "I've never thought about it. I guess there's something in the way they're experimenting with intricacy, but Richter's more photographic so I wouldn't have said so. But Warhol..."

"Warhol's a populist," Trevor snorted.

"Well, yes," she replied, "but in the ironic sense. He's critisising the mass-produced nature of modern society by imitating it - the lack of taste and appreciation for originality as opposed to a destire to repeatedly enjoy the familiar - like watching a favourite TV show over and over again."

Bernice glared at Amanda as she and Trevor walked off into the dining room, clearly enjoying their animated discussion. Vincent turned and, smiling at her, shrugged his shoulders then followed them into the dining room.

Amanda sat between Vincent and Trevor, but Vincent spent the meal talking to his father, about business from the snatches of conversation she could overhear. The table was set formally with more knives and forks then she knew what to do with, and though she watched the others closely for cues about which to use when, she felt clumsy and ill-at-ease, feeling that Veronica was watching her every move and disapproving of every mistake she made. For a while she and Trevor carried on their conversation and she started to enjoy herself. But neither of them noticed Bernice getting increasingly agitated until she stood and curtly excused herself, dragging Trevor with her. That was the last she was to see of him.

Over the next two days Amanda felt increasingly isolated. As families do, they talked about the comings and goings of people she didn't know and he hadn't mentioned, of events past, of business. They were polite to her, but never warm. Every now and then she thought that she'd caught a look of vague disapproval, a word with icicles hanging off it, but she said nothing to Vincent and she increasingly felt that it was just her own sense of inferiority. Vincent's family were well-off if not strictly rich (what she'd come to think of later as middle-class, white Anglo-Saxon Protestant establishment to her bog-Irish Catholic), and she felt clumsy and awkward around their easy familiarity with manners and and lifestyle that were alien to her. Amanda found herself longing for the times when she and Wind could be alone together when he was feeding, daydreaming of San Francisco, of the night at Willow and Coyote's house where for the first time she'd felt a sense of belonging that, now, seemed like a beautiful but fading dream.

On Tuesday Vincent's father had taken a phone call during breakfast and come back looking worried.

"Dad? Is something wrong?" Vincent asked.

"The GM account. They're thinking of dropping us."

Veronica looked at him. "Oh no. Can they do that?"

"Damn right they can. The contract..."

Vincent leaned over and explained quietly as Veronica and John talked. "GM buys about half of the output. If they drop Dad's company it could totally screw him."

"Can you do anything about it?" Vincent asked.

"I can try. I'll have to try to renegotiate the contract. The problem is that I need to close the deal with Nash today. It's all but done, but if I don't turn up it could fall through. But I haven't got any choice. Nash is big but GM could make or break us. I'll have to call them and see if I can postpone it, but they're in a hurry and...well, if I have to lose Nash to keep GM I'll have to do it. Of course if they both fall through..."

"Can you send someone else to Detroit while you talk to GM, John?" Veronica asked.

"Who? There's no-one I'd trust to cut the deal and besides, they'll want a signature on the spot if it goes ahead, and only a company official can..."

Amanda realised that both he and Veronica were looking at Vincent.

"Me? But I'm not..."

"Yes are are, boy. You're legally a Director of the company now that you're over eighteen."

"But I don't know anything about the deal? How can I..."

"The deal's aready done. All you need to do is sign."

"Well, I guess I could..."

John jumped up from the chair. "Great! Well done, son! Come on and I'll fill you in while you get changed and I'll get the ticket transferred. Hm - one of my suits'd probably fit you now..."

They went upstairs while Amanda finished her breakfast.

o0o

"So did you enjoy it?"

Amy smiled. "Well, It was very educational."

Jake looked at her. "Educational?"

"Oh. You mean the movie. I don't know. I didn't really pay much attention to it," Amy muttered. "Neither did you two," she said, sticking her fingers down her throat and pretending to gag.

"Amy!" Helen exclaimed over Jake's laughter.

"Take it easy, big sister. I've got bigger fish to fry than you. Anyway," she said, turning to Jake, "it was nice of you to take me. Thanks."

"My pleasure, Kiddo. I hope that guy didn't spoil it for you."

"Guy?" Amy asked innocently.

"Yeah. Some guy up the back kept cursing and finally got thrown out by the ushers."

"Didn't hear a thing," said Amy.

o0o

"Amanda?"

Amanda turned to see Veronica's face appear around the door of the office.

"Would you spare me a minute please, Dear?"

She walked in and sat in the deep-buttoned red leather chesterfield that Veronica indicated.

"Amanda, This is all a little embarrassing, so I hope you'll forgive me if I'm blunt. Dear, Vincent is going to take his place as head of the company in the not-too distant future. John and I have been talking about retirement and we're looking forward to a long and enjoyable one. Vincent's had a lot of fun playing with his photography, but the time's coming when he's going to have to settle down and do some serious work." She turned and looked out the window. "He's always been a good-hearted boy. He told us about your...condition, how he felt so sorry for you. You're a pretty girl, Amanda, and I'm sure that you must have felt very lucky when someone with Vincent's...resources...took you under his wing. But the fact is that he's been - you've both been - living off our money. This silly idea of his to be a photographer was never going to work." She turned back to Amanda. "Not that we mind the money of course but, as I said, he can't play these games forever." She looked Amanda in the eye. "I'll come straight to the point, Amanda. You're just one of his games - one of his silly fantasies." She paused, for less than a second. "John and I are prepared to pay you ten thousand dollars if you'll leave now and simply...disappear."

Amanda was speechless. She stared at Veronica open-mouthed.

"I know it sounds callous, dear, and it probably is, but I want you to think hard about it. Ten thousand is a lot of money. Invested wisely it could set you and your baby up for life. We've already arranged for a bank account to be opened in your name and we've deposited ten thousand cash in it. No tricks, no cheating. If you agree, we can go straight to the bank where they'll take down your deatails and record your signature. It'll be all yours. All you have to do in return is agree, in writing, never to approach Vincent again."

Amanda tried to speak.

"No - don't say anything. I'm going to leave and let you think about it for half an hour, then I'll come back and see what you're decision is. But I want you to think hard about this. If you really care for Vincent, what do you think would be better for him - a life struggling to make ends meet as a photographer or..." she looked around at the room, "...a life of ease as the President and owner of a successful business? No - don't say anything. Just think."

She rose and left, closing the door behind her as Amanda stared after her.

Amanda sat, too stunned to move, trying to come to terms with the reality of the situation, to believe that she'd just been offered money to walk away from her life.

Parallels with Jake flooded her memory, but Jake was a mystery and probably always would be. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn't been pregnant - would she have loved him? And it hurt so much the she drove the thought away.

Vincent!

She'd made a life with him, seen their lives stretching ahead forever. Coyote's words taunted her "made you...one".

Why did they hate her? What had she ever done to them?

_How he felt so sorry for you_

Is that what it was?

_...one of his games..._

He felt sorry for her?

Perhaps.

He _was_ good-hearted.

_...one of his silly fantasies..._

She was right. They were from different worlds.

And sooner or later he'd go back to his real world, and it was somewhere that she could never follow him.

Through blurry eyes she could see the office, its wood panelling, the dark polished wood desk and the leather chair. Behind it the neat lawns sloping down to the road. And she saw her parents' house again, the cracked paint, the faded path.

But to be offered _money_ to leave the man she loved.

_Money_. The love of it was the root of all evil the Bible said - First Timothy if she remembered correctly. _Is that what it does to you? It makes you think you can buy lov_e?

And she knew what she had to do.

She wasn't one of his "silly fantasies". He was one of hers.

o0o

"Willy Johanssen! What's all this about?"

Willy led Hilda down to the back of Gilbert's and into the private room that Rosie had set up. It was perfect, just the way he wanted it to be. Hilda was blindfolded and on the table was the most luscious looking chocolate cake Willy had ever seen and - he hoped - than Hilda had ever seen. The frosting was thick and dark brown, and right in the centre, just as he'd asked, a tiny sparkle hinted at something buried deeply. The table was set with two plain white plates, two forks, and a large knife.

He guided her to a chair and sat her down.

"Comfortable, sugar pie?" he asked.

"Get this goddam thing off'n me, Willy! What are you up to?"

He chuckled to see the smile on her face. "Okay, sweetie. Close your eyes now."

"They're closed!" She giggled.

He untied the blindfold, lowering it slowly to make sure her eyes were closed. Crossing his fingers and saying a silent prayer, he said. "Okay. You can open them now."

She did, looking straight at the cake.

He watched her eyes widen in surprise. She looked around to where he stood, a smile as big as all outdoors on her face. She stood and hugged him until he couldn't breath, then sat down again. She took the knife, cut deeply into the cake, missing the tiny glint in the centre by the width of a hair, and cut two large slices, the first she placed on Willy's plate and the second on her own then, picking up a fork, she took a large chunk off the slice on her plate and lifted it to her mouth. As it went in, her eyes closed again in a paroxysm of ecstacy and she didn't chew, so much as absorb the cake. Willy sat down opposite her and watched, spellbound, as she ate the rest of the large slice and slowly dragged her finger across the plate to pick up the last of the rich butter frosting which almost dripped from her finger as she lifted it to her mouth to suck the last, delectable drops of delight.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Looking straight at him she said "I think I love you Willy."

"I was hopin' you were goin' to say that, sugar-pie. For a minute I was afraid you were gonna eat it."

Hilda looked blank. "Eat it? What are you talking about?"

Willy grinned again. "Look close at the middle of the cake."

She looked down, and he watched her eyes widen as she spotted the tiny mound of buried treasure, and that her hand shook slightly as she plunged a chubby finger into the deep frosting to recover the chocolate-coated but unmistakable morsel. He blushed as the words of the old nursery rhyme came into his head..._what a good boy am I._

Hilda picked up the white linen napkin that Rosie had laid next to the plate and gently wiped away the frosting to reveal the ring underneath. As she turned to Willy, her eyes still wide, he said "Hilda, you'd make me a proud and happy man if you'd agree to be my wife after we've graduated."

o0o

Vincent paid the driver and got out of the cab, surprised to see that his Dad's car was already back and hoping that the GM deal had gone well. He walked up the steps, opened the door and tossed the envelope with the signed contract onto the hall table. His hand went to loosen his tie but thought better of it. For what he had in mind it was appropriate to be wearing a tie and he bounded quietly up the stairs to his room, pleased that he'd been able to get the contract signed and catch the early flight. Opening the top drawer of his nightstand he took out the box he'd collected the previous night from the safe in the office and flipped it open. His Grandmother's engagement ring. It was old-fashioned, Victorian. Two rows of fine clasps rose in curves from the edges to hold five diamonds, two small ones on the outside, then two larger stones, framing a central stone that was larger again. It wasn't ostentatious or large - the total weight of the diamonds was probably less than half a karat though they were fine and flawless. But it was elegant, simple. Perfect.

Coyote's "wedding" had been just what they needed at the time and, in the terms that Coyote described it, no-one could ever be more married - he loved Amanda desperately. But it hadn't been a "real" wedding. He wasn't religious though his family had always been regulars at the Episcopalian Church, but the important thing was the ceremony - the public declaration of his love in front of family and friends, and this - his Grandmother's ring, was the symbol that he'd grown up knowing that he was going to give to the woman he loved. He snapped the box closed, took a deep breath, and turned to go and find her.

And she appeared from the office as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

His heart was pounding and he was too nervous to see the look on her face as she saw him, and he stopped. He grinned and, for the second time, knelt before her.

He opened the box again and held it up to her. "This is my Grandma's ring. She died before I was born. I was six when Dad first showed it to me. He told me that Grandma had left it to his first son in her will, she wrote that she wanted his first son to give to his wife. I guess I didn't think much about it then, but I've always known that one day I'd give it to the woman I wanted to take care of forever." He looked, blindly, into her eyes. "This is why I wanted to bring you here. I want to take care of you for the rest of my life."

Amanda was hardly conscious of what was going on. She saw and she heard, but only snatches came through. She'd wanted to be gone when he got home.

_...take care of..._

Veronica was right.

It was pity, not love.

She forced herself not to cry, just shook her head, and ran up the stairs.

Vincent knelt, transfixed, staring after her.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder he looked around to see his mother standing beside him. He got up, stunned. "I..."

She put her arm around him. "I know. I heard."

"But what...?"

She looked at him sadly. "It's for the best, Vincent."

"Best? What do you mean, best? What happened?"

"Honey, I think Amanda's realised that she - that you and she are from very different worlds, that it might be best if..."

"Different worlds? What do you mean? What the hell have you been saying to her?" he asked, his intonation rising.

She stepped back. "We just had a little talk about the future, that's all. I think Amanda's realised that you can't go on living this...dream. That you'll have to come back to the business. Your father and I can't support you forever, now can we?"

"Support?"

"Of course dear."

He stared at her. "Support? You...you haven't been looking at the account, have you?" His voice betrayed his astonished disbelief.

"Of course not, Dear. You know that money's not the issue..."

The blood drained from his face. He didn't notice Amanda, backpack on her shoulder and Wind in her arms, come out of the room and down the stairs, or his father and sister who'd come in from the back yard and who were standing at the kitchen door listening.

"You told her, didn't you?" he half-whispered. "You told her that we've been living off your money!"

"She had to know dear, but it's not about money!"

"Then what is it about?"

"Oh, Vincent! Be realistic! Amanda's a pretty girl, but you have to be sensible. How long do you think it'd last? Sooner or later you're going to need someone who'll be able to support you while you're working to make the company what it could be! Your father and I worked hard to build it up and you know that it could be much bigger. Now that you're back and starting to take responsibility the last thing you need to distract you is some...hippie girl and her ba...baby that you picked up on the street."

Amanda stopped at the foot of the stairs, surprised by how much Veronica's words hurt. Her contempt for Vincent's mother should have been her shield, but they drove through her defences. Her mind flashed back those few short months to the schoolgirl Amanda, with the loving family and an unknown future. And now..._a whore. With a bastard. No...two bastards._

A sense of calm descended on Vincent. He walked over to the table and picked up the contract from where he'd left it. "This was a setup, wasn't it? You used this to get me out of the house."

Veronica blushed. "No. Not exactly. We did need someone to go and pick it up. But listen, Vincent..."

"No," He said, his voice resonant in the open space. "You listen to me." He stared at her with a cold intensity.

"I want you to listen well, because I'm only going to say this once. If you'd bothered to look at the account you'd have seen that all the transactions for the last six months were credits. I've paid back the money I used to live on at first and I've nearly paid you back for the Willys. You think the photography's just a hobby? It's a damn good one then. I've been published in papers and magazines around America including the New York Times. Oh - and that's partly thanks to Amanda who taught me more about the use of light in a week than I'd learned in college in a year. We're doing well, and we're doing something important." He held up the contract. "I was going to tear this up, but that'd be too easy. Take it." He handed it to his mother. "It's more important to you than bothering to find out how I'm doing."

She looked at him. "Vincent, I..."

"No. Don't talk. I've only got one more thing to say. Amanda's the most wonderful woman I've ever met. She's smart - smarter than I'll ever be and she's got more artistic ability than I'll ever have. She's more than I ever hoped for and she's all I want."

Amanda failed to stifle a sob.

Vincent looked round to see her standing at the foot of the stairs, and the rest of the world vanished. "Amanda," he said, turning to her, his voice quiet and charged with emotion. "I don't know what anyone said to you and I don't care. None of this..." he looked around at the entry foyer "...matters a damn to me. Only one thing matters to me."

He took the ring out of its box and, taking her hand, slipped it onto her finger. "Marry me, Amanda. Legally. Officially. Make Wind legally ours so he'll never have to hear the sorts of things that you just heard. They're lies, but they hurt. Marry me. Please?"

"NO!"

Bernice stormed up to him, her face red with anger. "I'm damned if I'm going to let you give Grandma's ring to some gold-digging slut who's trying to wheedle her way into our family! You need to open your eyes, Vincent! Your family matters here! Not some..." she reached down and, grabbing Amanda's wrist, snatched the ring off her finger. "...hippie WHORE and her brat!"

Vincent turned to her. When he spoke it was soft in comparison to Neecy's raving, but there was an edge to his voice as hard as the diamonds in their Grandmother's ring..

"Neecy, you're my sister and I love you, but I'm not going to let you talk about the mother of my children like that."

There was a sharp intake of breath behind them as the meaning of what he'd said registered with his mother.

Ignoring it, Vincent continued, staring straight through Neecy. "If Amanda's not worthy of Grandma's ring then neither am I." He handed her the box. "It's yours. I guess Grandma's wishes for it don't mean anything to you."

Bernice stood, speechless as Vincent turned back to his mother. "That's right. Amanda's pregnant. But Wind's my son every bit as much."

_I was there. You'll never understand. She could have died that night. He could have died. I was there._

When he turned back to Amanda all the anger had vanished as if it had never existed. "I love you, Amanda. Will you marry me?"

She smiled up at him and nodded.

Vincent looked back at his mother. "These people are my family now. If I have to give up the past for the future..." He turned back to Amanda. "...then you need to know that it's no competition." Amanda shifted wind from her arm and hugged him close to her as Vincent's gaze swept back to his parents and sister. "Your choice. You can accept Amanda and Wind and our new child and me, or you can reject us all. All or nothing."

He turned to where she stood, their eyes fixed on each other. "Let's go home."

He gathered their things and carried them out to the car. Amanda turned back as she walked through the door to see them standing there, silent, staring. She couldn't read them.

o0o

The next morning Amy walked in to the kitchen as Rita sat down at the table. Their father was making pancakes and he looked round at her.

"Hi Princess. Pancake?"

"Sure," she said. "Thanks Dad."

He turned back to the griddle and poured an extra dollop of batter onto the sizzling surface. "How was the library last night, Rita?"

"Boring," Rita answered. "I hate history."

Amy turned to her. "History? I thought you were studying anatomy last night?"

Rita blanched.

"Uh, no," she nervously looked round to see her father still intent on the pancakes. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I just thought it might have been hANDY," she said, de-emphasising the h.

Amy smiled her "I own you now" smile as Rita glared at her.

o0o

Jake sat on his footlocker polishing his shoes as Willy walked in. He smiled at his buddy. "Hey, Man. How was Hilda?" As Willy approached Jake saw the moonlight glinting off his teeth and he grinned back. "As good as that, eh?"

Willy came up and sat down beside him. "Jake, Hilda and me are gettin' married. I want you t' be my best man."

**o0o o0o**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers:

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	10. Going to the Chapel

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 10: Going to the Chapel 

**o0o o0o**

It had been a long hike and Jake's feet ached. If it hadn't been for Willy's constant banter about Hilda he would have spent most of the fifteen miles complaining, so he was thankful for that.

While the sun set they pitched their tents under the watchful eye of Corporal Ellenbogen.

"You two!" Ellenbogen grunted. "Latrine duty."

Jake turned to see who his partner was going to be in the dismal job of digging the pit and erecting the multi-hole seat over it.

Kowalski.

Jake groaned inwardly as their eyes met. Kowalski and Jake had avoided each other since the night out, which Jake was thankful for, assuming that Kowalski was giving him a wide berth in case Jake laid him out again. And Jake was happy to have him think that - knowing that, without the rage he, couldn't go two rounds with a revolving door. Leaving Willy to finish setting up the tent, Jake retrieved the collapsible shovel from his pack and followed Kowalski to the edge of the clearing that Ellenbogen had pointed to.

Kowalski stuck his shovel into the soft ground and looked Jake in the eye. "Okay then, Morgendorffer. What's it gonna be?" he asked.

Jake made an instant decision to tough it out. "You got what was coming, Kowalski. Helen was my date. Groping's bad enough, and she gave you a cold shower for that. But if you think I was gonna stand there and watch you hit her, then you'd better get used to it because its not gonna be the last time someone lays you out."

Kowalski met Jake's stare for a few seconds then looked away.

"So let's forget about it and dig this shitter or we're gonna be here until midnight."

To Jake's relief, they did.

By the time they'd dug the pit, set up the seat, and erected the canvas screen around it Jake was tired and famished. He walked back to where Willy had the tent erected, waiting for "Cooky" to get the dinner ready. He was in the middle of telling Willy about the accommodation that he and Kowalski had reached when he was stopped mid-sentence by a sublime aroma. Turning, he saw Cooky, Buxton Ridge's head cook, stirring a large pot over a low fire, steam rising into the cooling air. Jake's mouth watered and he dragged Willy over to where the evening's meal was being prepared.

"That smells great! What is it?" Jake asked, his taste buds tingling in anticipation.

Cooky looked up from the pot. He recognised Jake as the boy who'd spent last Christmas at Buxton Ridge. Morgan? Morgandorf? Something like that. He cocked a wary eye at Jake. "Kitchen sink stoo. 'S what I call it anyways."

'Kitchen sink? As in 'everything but'?"

_No, white bread - 'cause it looks like what's left in the sink after the washin' up. _"Yeah Sure."

"Do you suppose I could...?"

"Taste it? Sure. You hungry then? How about your buddy?"

"That smell soooo good! And I could eat a horse," Jake enthused.

"Uh, it ain't spicy is it, Cooky? I reckon you're about the best damn chef in all of creation, but I like m' food plain and simple."

Cooky cocked an eye at Willy.

Jake watched hungrily as Cooky ladled a dollop of stew onto two enamel plates and handed them to him and Willy with a spoon each. Jake held it to his nose and breathed in a hearty lungful of the aroma, then eagerly shovelled a spoonful into his mouth. He closed his eyes as the taste hit and a beatific smile welcomed the angels dancing on his tongue.

Cooky watched, grinning. "You like it? Uh, Morgandoofer is it?"

"Morgendorffer - Jake," Jake replied, eagerly eating the rest of the plateful. "Like it? I don't think I've ever tasted anything so good in my life!"

Cooky snorted. "An how 'bout you, son?" he asked, looking at Willy.

"Well, I dunno - it smells a little spicy t' me..."

Jake grabbed Willy's plate and finished it off in a trice, to Willy's delighted laughter. "Yeah, Willy! That's real spicy - you wouldn't like it at all! Tell you what - you'd better give me yours later too!"

Willy laughed louder. "Well - you done saved me a night o' stomach troubles then, Jake."

Laughing, Jake turned back to Cooky. "I don't suppose you'd...you know...teach me to make it?"

"Teach you? Yeah. Sure!" Cooky's funny bone tingled and he looked around, making sure that no-one was near, and turned back to Jake. "Not now though," he whispered conspiratorially. "It's a family secret. I'm only gonna tell you 'cause you like it so much. Come back after dinner and I'll...impart the wisdom to you!"

"Wow!" Jake said, open-mouthed. "Thanks! I'll be back!" Jake grinned and he and Willy hurried off back to the tent.

Cooky watched Jake walk off. He grinned and chuckled to himself as he bent to pick up the catering-size cans of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Hungarian Goulash and stash them away before the boys lined up, almost sorry that he'd have to admit that it came out of a can. Why couldn't Morgendorffer have said that about his chicken gumbo or his apple pie?

Once things had been cleared up he walked off to his tent to fetch a packet of cigarettes, unaware that the exchange had been observed by someone who was looking forward to getting even with Cadet Jake Morgendorffer.

Kowalski waited until Cooky was in hearing range, and spoke to his friends.

"I can't believe Morgendorffer, man. He said, 'Thats some damned good cooking for a nigger. Hell - he probably stole the recipe from a white man.'"

Cooky stomped off and Kowalski smiled. "Perfect," he whispered.

George Curtiss "Cooky" Washington had been head cook at Buxton Ridge since just after the war. As an army cook he'd been what he expected to be, a black man in a white man's world, and he'd been called a nigger too often to take it personally any more. No doubt Morgandoof was just another ignorant white kid, and Cooky bore him no malice - what could you expect from a kid whose parents left him at school over Christmas anyway?. The racial prejudice in the army was a damn site less than he'd been used to as a poor kid growing up in Alabama - and it'd taught him a useful trade. When he'd been demobilized at the end of the war Corporal Ellenbogen had offered him the job at the Academy and he'd taken it with pleasure, married, and built a life that a lot of the folks he'd grown up with would have envied. Besides - there were changes happening in America - Doctor King's Freedom Marches, Black Power...he could see that it was going to be a long road, but maybe his kids or his grandkids would grow up with all the opportunities that these pasty white kids like Jake Morgendorfle and his smartass buddy had. Hell, maybe they'd even be able to go to a place like Buxton Ridge where some white guy would be doing the cooking for them! He smiled at the thought of Morgendorter being that white guy, cooking up a mess of kitchen sink stew.

_So,_ he thought, chuckling to himself, _Morganfoofer wants kitchen sink stew? Then kitchen sink stew he's gonna get._

**o0o**

The Willys bounced as Vincent left the driveway and turned onto the street perhaps a little too fast. Amanda was silent, lost for words, torn between relief that they were leaving and regret for the rift that she'd precipitated between Vincent and his family.

As they turned left at the end of the street she turned to look at him. His face was set, not betraying any emotion, but tense.

"Vincent, I'm sorry," she said.

Vincent's expression didn't change and he stared straight ahead, but he reached across and took he hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. "I meant what I said." He paused, letting go of her hand to change gears, and continued quietly. "I didn't realise...how goddam bourgeois they...we were...are."

"If you hadn't met me..."

He turned to her and shook his head, then turned back to the road. They slowed as a car in front turned into a driveway. "Being away from them, getting out into the real world - I would have changed anyway. I just hadn't realised...I thought it was them, but it wasn't, was it?"

He was speaking quietly, and she assumed the question was rhetorical and didn't bother answering.

"Sooner or later something would have triggered it. I'm sorry it had to be you." He took her hand again and squeezed.

"The ring..."

He sighed. "Yeah." A faint smile lit his face. "Well, we'll just have to get another one."

"Did you really mean that? About a wedding?" She smiled. "Another wedding?"

He turned to her, serious again. "Yeah. Definitely. The sooner the better. In fact...why not now?"

"Now? What...you mean here?"

"No," he laughed, "but..." another pause "...it's Tuesday. What do you say Saturday?"

"But how..."

"Vegas."

Amanda stared at him. "You're kidding?"

Vincent grinned back. "No. Look - at first I wanted a big wedding, the whole family thing, you know, the public declaration of love and commitment. But what happened...back there...made me realise that Coyote was absolutely right - except for one thing."

"Legality? But that's I mean if you take away the religious significance."

"Is it?" he said, looking at her again. "How did you feel when Mom almost called Wind a bastard?"

"I was going to..." she stopped, realising that telling him that she was about to leave - and would have if he hadn't come back early - would mean that she'd have to answer difficult questions about what had been said. And as much as she despised his mother, telling Vincent about what she'd done stood too big a chance of hurting him, so it was going to stay her secret. "It hurt. You're right." She flushed with anger at the memory but, luckily, he didn't ask what it was she was going to do.

"Yeah. Me too. If we get legally married in Vegas we'll protect them. Quick, easy, no problems. So what do you think?"

Amanda stared at him as he concentrated on the road. "I think I love you Mister Lane."

He grinned. "Then let's get married, Mrs Lane."

Three days later they drove down Las Vegas Boulevard, Amanda goggling at the spectacular casinos and hotels. But when Vincent turned into the parking lot of Caesar's Palace she turned to him. "Now come on - this is crazy. This is Caesar's Palace! There's no way we can stay here!"

"Relax," he grinned. "These places are cheap. The casinos subsidise the rooms. Most of the people who come here wind up playing the tables and that's where they make their money. You'll see."

They parked underground and took the elevator up to the foyer. As Amanda looked around she realised that it wasn't so much opulent as ostentatious - ornate and expensive, but tasteless and gaudy. The mock-Roman effect was more a Cecil B DeMille Rome than something that Romulus and Remus's descendents might have recognised. Still, the detail and decoration were impressive. And she realised a little guiltily that she couldn't help feeling a thrill at being part of such a classically cheesy scenario - the quickie wedding in Vegas. She smiled at the thought and waited while Vincent went up to the desk to see about getting a room for the night, watching the people, many of them probably desperados, she thought, hoping for that lucky number to raise them from desperation to riches. _I wonder how often it really happens, _she thought_._ Banners advertising the current show were hung from the faux-Roman pillars, photographs of stars and the rich and famous.

Wind was gurgling happily at all the colour and movement, and Amanda was about to say something to him when a scuffle across the floor attracted her attention.

"Watch where you're going you old fool!"

She turned to see an old woman go sprawling as a plaid-suited man in his 20s stormed off, ignoring her, the expression on his face suggesting that Lady Luck hadn't smiled on him. The old woman's handbag and glasses went flying, the handbag's contents spilling out across the carpet.

Amanda ran across to her and knelt down, holding Wind in one arm and gently helping the old lady to sit up with the other. She reached out to snatch the glasses from under the feet of people hurrying by, missing them by a second as they shattered with a crunch under the heel of a pair of highly-polished wingtips. Amanda glared up at the retreating legs and turned back quickly to support the woman..

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"My glasses - my things..." the old woman said, her thin hand reaching out to where her belongings had spilled.

Amanda handed her the frame of what had been, until a minute ago, her glasses. "I'm afraid these aren't going to do you any good. Don't worry - I'll get the other things. Can you stand up?"

"I think so, if you can help me up," the woman said, getting shakily to her feet with Amanda's help. As soon as Amanda let her go, she staggered, and Amanda put an arm around her again.

"Here - let's get you to a seat," she said, helping to steer her to a black leather couch a dozen paces away.

"But my things..." the woman said, increasingly distressed.

"I'll get them. You help her to sit down."

Amanda looked up to see a middle-aged man with dark wavy hair wearing well-cut casual clothes picking up the handbag and starting to fetch the spilled contents. She helped the woman to the chair and sat down next to her, seeing that the old lady was badly shaken and beginning to cry.

"I'm so sorry. It all happened so quickly - I..."

"It's okay," Amanda said soothingly, holding her hand. "The important thing is that you're alright. Nothing broken? Not badly hurt?"

"Only my pride," she said, smiling through her tears.

"Can you see without your glasses?"

"Well enough, thank you Dear. I have a spare pair in my room. Things are a might fuzzy but I can see to get around."

"Well at least that's something. People can be such pigs!"

"I'm afraid so. But others," she said, looking at Amanda, "are very kind."

"Here you go," said the dark-haired man, handing her her handbag. "Everything seems okay, but I don't think this'll ever be the same again." He smiled, holding out a lipstick that had been trodden on. "Maybe this'll teach you to be more careful! Las Vegas is no place for pretty young ladies like you to running around and tripping over themselves!"

The old lady laughed, reaching into her handbag for a handkerchief. "It's been a long time since anyone's called me pretty. Say - don't I know you, young man?"

Amanda looked up and grinned at the man, who winked at her.

"Nah, I've just got one of those faces. People think they recognise me all the time, but I don't know any of them."

"Well thank you so much. I'm so grateful to you. Are you both here for the show?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm looking forward to it," he said.

"I'm here to get married," added Amanda. "My hu...my fiancee's over there getting us a room now."

"Oh dear!" The woman looked at Wind, and caught a blurry glance from the man. "I mean I don't think he's going to have any luck. The whole town's booked out for the show," she said, wiping her eyes.

Amanda's face fell. "Oh no," she said. "We've driven three days and we..." Wind started fussing and Amanda rocked and shushed him, not noticing the exchange of glances between the dark-haired man and the woman.

"I'm sorry, he's probably hungry." Amanda said, glancing over at the desk to see Vincent speaking despondently to the clerk, nodding in resignation.

"Well, I'll leave you folks to it then," the dark-haired man said, turning his head round to glance at Vincent. "Are you sure you're alright, little lady?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you, I'm fine. Thanks to you two," she replied.

He picked up the woman's hand and kissed the back of it. "See you later, beautiful," he said, smiling at them both and walking off leaving the woman giggling like a thirteen year old.

Amanda stifled a laugh as Vincent turned and, spotting Amanda, walked over to them. None of them noticed the dark-haired man circle around behind them, walk over to the desk where he had a brief word to the clerk, and disappear into the crowd.

"This is my fiancee, Vincent," Amanda said, winking at Vincent as he in response to his reaction to the word.

"Hello, Dear! Your fiancee was very kind to me. I fell and she helped me up. You're very lucky."

"Yeah, she's something alright," he said. "I'm lucky that way, but I'm afraid we won't be staying here tonight. There's a big show on and the whole town's booked solid."

"Oh dear, I was afraid of that," the old woman said. "We were just talking about that. Everyone's here for the show. What are you going to do?"

"Well, I guess we could try Henderson or Boulder City, but..."

"Excuse me, Sir."

Vincent turned to see the desk clerk behind him.

"It seems I was mistaken," he said politely. "We do have a room. If you'd like to come and register I'll have the bell boy help you up with your luggage."

"Oh, that's great! Thanks!" Vincent said. "Come on, let's go then."

"Are you sure there's nothing you need?" Amanda asked the old lady.

"I'm fine, thank you, Dear. You run along now," she said, slowly getting up and standing steadily. "I'm fine. Congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you," Amanda said, smiling and hurrying to catch up with Vincent.

**o0o**

"So, ya wanna learn how to make Kitchen Sink Stoo, eh?" Cooky had spent the last two hours preparing for this and he was going to enjoy it. He played up the Delta dialect to make himself sound more exotic.

"Yeah! That was soooo good. I hope it's not too complicated." said Jake, patting his distended stomach.

"Listen, Morgendorffer, ya don't make a masterpiece in a minute. Sure, I can whip it up pretty quick when I needs to, but I been doin' it since I was at my Daddy's knee. These things take time."

"Oh - yeah. Sorry," Jake said looking abashed.

"Okay then. Now listen up good. Ya takes ya some ham hocks and some chicken livers and ya boil 'em danged near ta death, then yo put in a few handfuls of shrimp and crawdad butts..."

"Crawdad butts? Where do you get crawdad butts from?"

"Ain't my problem, Morgendorffer. You wants t' make it, you works out where t' git it. Now - once them crawdad butts are in there ya gotta be quick. Y' tosses in a few handfuls of okra and then...you listenin' hard, cause this here's the secret?"

"Yeah - I am!" replied Jake, drinking in every word.

"Okay then. You takes some cayenne pepper - 'bout a half a cupful, and y' adds it real quick. Then, while that's boilin', y' chops up about a cupful 'a chillies - you know them tiny little ones..."

Jake nodded. He'd never heard of cayenne pepper, but he knew only too well what chillies were - Mad Dog used to put them in his chilli con carne and it made Jake's eyes water to be in the house when it was cooking. He knew that the smaller the chillies were the hotter they were, and he started to feel uncomfortable.

"...y' chops 'em up real fine and you tosses 'em in and stirs it real good. Now you waits until all that okra's rendered down real thick and then y' adds jist the tiniest dash o' hot sauce. Y' gotta use Durkee's 'Red Hot' Sauce or 'Louisiana'-brand hot sauce if y' can get 'em. Not too much, mind! If it don't work out right y' can be sure it's 'cause y' messed up the hot sauce - y' gotta git that jes' right!"

"Uh, won't all that chilli...I mean it didn't taste like it had any chilli..."

"Well 'course it didn't, Morgendorffer! Damn, boy, you real dumb - you know that? That's what the cayenne pepper's for! All them things, they jes' cancel each other out! Your buddy, that smartass kid - he jes' real sensitive. Y' gotta have a little bitta bight to it or it ain't no good at all - s'why y' gotta be real careful with the hot sauce. You understan'?"

"Wow! Yeah! I get it!"

"You sure? 'Cause lotsa white folks jes' don't understsan'. But I can tell as how you're a lot smarter'n most 'un 'em. I reckon as with a bit a' practice you're gonna be able to make this jes fine!" _Lawsy me, Cooky - y'all shoulda bin a actor 'stead o' a cook,_ he thought in dialect, biting his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

"Really? Thanks! So that's it?"

"Yeah. Tha's it."

Jake reached out and shook Cooky's hand. "Thanks, Cooky! This is something I'm going to remember all my life! I'm going to get it perfect, just like you do, if it's the last thing I do!"

_It well may be, son, it well may be. I just hope you aren't stupid enough to try it out on other people._

**o0o**

"Your bags, Sir?"

"It's okay - they're still in the car. We didn't want to bring them in until we'd checked."

"I'll show you to your room then, Sir, then I'll come and bring your luggage in from the car for you."

"Wow - great service!" said Vincent. "Sure. Thanks."

The bellhop led them to the elevators inserted a key into a lock below the button panel. Amanda glanced at Vincent, who shrugged his shoulders. A set of elevator doors opened immediately. When they were in the elevator doors closed and they felt the familiar slight weight increase as it started upwards. Vincent noticed that there sixteen floors and he watched the numbers climb on the floor indicator - 14, 15, 16 - and then the display blanked while the car kept moving what felt like another two floors before the doors opened.

They stepped out - not into a hallway, but directly into a room. From the mezzanine level where the elevator stopped, a wide flight of marble stairs led down to a sunken living area with curved sofas upholstered in what looked like zebra hide. A polished black granite coffee table held a huge vase of exotic flowers and, beyond them, floor to ceiling windows looked out across Las Vegas to the Nevada desert beyond.

"Whoa," Vincent exclaimed, grinning at the bellhop, "wrong floor, man! But this is amazing! Could we take a look around do you suppose?"

"This is the suite I was told to show you to, Mister Lane," he answered.

"But you...there's no way we..." Vincent stuttered as Amanda stepped out onto the polished marble floor, looking around, her eyes drawn to the paintings on the wall.

"Vincent," she whispered, "these are...originals..." Patting Wind gently she slowly walked up to one, her eyes bulging.

Vincent stepped out after her and turned to see her staring at what could only be a Picasso. He turned back to the bellhop, who had stepped out of the elevator. "Look, man, they've confused us with someone else, but do you think we could stay here for a minute while you go and sort it out for us? My wife's an artist and she'd love to look at the paintings."

"And the...ooooohhhh no! Rodin!" she said, skipping over to a statue that overlooked the living area.

"Certainly Mister Lane. I'll go and confirm with the desk. Why not give me your car keys? If I'm right, I'll go and fetch your luggage and bring it up. If there's a mistake I'll come back and show you to the proper room."

Vincent reached into his pocket and tossed him the keys. "Thanks, man. Red Willys wagon."

"Thank you, Sir. I won't be long."

The bellhop got back into the elevator while Amanda and Vincent slowly walked around the suite. While Amanda looked at artworks that would have done a small museum proud, Vincent checked out the furniture and the view, hoping that Amanda wouldn't noticed that the upholstery was real zebra hide.

A chime behind them signalled the return of the elevator and rhey turned to see the bellhop taking their luggage off a trolley. "Here are your car keys, and these," he said, handing him two small keys, "are the room and keys to the private elevator. There are phones in every room including the bathroom. Twenty-four hour room service is complimentary..."

'Whoa - hold it!" Vincent interrupted. "This is crazy! I mean even if it wasn't a mistake there's no way we could afford it!"

"I anticipated your concern, Mister Lane, so I double-checked with the desk. The management regrets that you were turned away when you first enquired and offers you this suite by way of apology for two nights at the standard Deluxe Room rate of $25 per night. If that's acceptable to you, the suite is yours."

Vincent glanced at Amanda. Her eyes said "please take it" and...other things. Vincent turned back to the bellhop. "Look, man, I have no idea what this is about but I'm not crazy. You're sure, right?"

"Yes, Mister Lane. I'm certain."

"Then we're here for two nights. Uh, just for the sake of curiosity, how much does this room normally go for?"

"Normally, Sir? Well, it depends. It's usually reserved for VIPs. In casinos that means high rollers - people who can be relied on to bet thousands of dollars a night - sometimes more. The casino offers them the use of these suites free of charge. For - pardon the term , ordinary guests - people the casino doesn't know, it would cost in the vicinity of eight hundred dollars a night."

When he could speak again Vincent said "I still think there's been a terrible mistake. I've never gambled and I don't intend to. Even if I did the most you'd get out of me would be five dollars. But...okay. You're absolutely sure I'm not going to find a nasty surprise waiting for me..."

"Vincent. Shut up. It's happened. Take it."

Amanda's expression was irresistible and, bowing to the inevitable, Vincent smiled and handed the bellhop a dollar, which he took with dignity and a friendly smile. As he left, Amanda put her arms around him, being careful not to squash Wind, who was gurgling happily. "I want to find out what those knobs on the bathtub are," she said.

**o0o**

Jake tolerated the three days of camp by focussing on two things: he had only four weeks to go until graduation and this weekend he was going to take Helen to her senior prom. Getting the recipe for kitchen sink stew from Cooky was a bonus.

Now that Hilda had accepted his proposal Willy talked incessantly about his plans. And though Jake enjoyed listening to him and sharing his contentment, it wasn't without an accompanying regret. Sometimes at night he'd concentrate on picturing Amanda's face, and he cried silently the first time he realised that tiny details were fading. But they never faded completely.

"Army's a fine life for a guy like me, Jakey. Not fancy, mind, but regular."

"How about 'Nam, Willy?" Jake had asked the first night under canvas.

Willy had been silent for a long time before he answered.

"I don't think so deep as you, Jakey, I know. I don't much care about politics. T' be honest I'm not sure as I could point out Viet Nam to y' on a map. But Pa always said that y' gotta clean out the stables if y' wanna ride the horse. I guess what he meant was that if y' take the pay, y' do the job, right?"

"Yeah," Jake had said, feeling deep conflict over loyalty to his friend and revulsion that he'd consider participating in what Jake was coming to know was a deeply unjust war. "I guess so," he added, loyalty winning out.

"Anyways, I talked t' Hilda about it an' she's fine. Kinda likes the idea of movin' round t' where they post me. She's never done much travellin'. Ma's not so happy about it o' course. I think she'd like me t' stay and mind the farm. But Peter's talkin' about moving back in an' Ma's real keen on that. I hope he does. It'd make me real happy to know that Ma's got folks there with her." He turned over and looked at Jake. "Ma's lookin' forward a heap t' meetin' ya at the wedding."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her too, Willy," Jake had replied honestly.

Cooky prepared an early breakfast on the morning of the hike back to Buxton Ridge.

Growing up as an oly child Jake had always hated the shared latrines that they set up at camp, so he'd avoided using them as long as he could. But immediately after breakfast it became obvious that he wasn't going to be able to wait any longer and, sighing in resignation, he made his way to the canvas enclosure that he and Kowalski had erected three days ago. The ashes of the cooling fires were spread on the pit daily, but they never really masked the smell.

As he trudged towards the latrine he didn't notice the surreptitious glances of half the cadets, nor that two of them dashed in before him. Five minutes later Jake came out and walked over to wash his hands at the tank. The two cadets who had gone in before him came out, looked to their left and shrugged their shoulders at Kowalski, who had been watching from inside a tent on the eastern side of the latrine. He crawled out and strode past the two, glaring at them, and into the latrine.

Thirty seconds later there was a yell, and the canvas screen around the latrine came crashing down. From underneath the collapsed screen came a string of invective and Jake turned to see the entire camp making for the source of the commotion. He hurried over to help the other two lift the remains of the screen off to reveal Kowalski, sitting in the pit and scrabbling to get out, the three-hole wooden seat broken in two along a clean line between the second and third holes.

Years from that day, new cadets would stare wide-eyed at at the story, and beg to be told again of the day that Kowalski (who, it was rumoured, had had serious anatomical problems) fell in the pit.

"But why didn't y' fall in y'self, Jakie?" Willy asked. "That seat'd been sawed nearly right through."

"You're kidding?" Jake said. "You actually _sit_ on it? I thought everyone sort of...hovered...like I do. Don't you get splinters?"

**o0o**

Wind screamed with delight as Amanda bounced him up and down, in and out of the frothy, bubbling water, watched by a grinning Vincent who was lying back letting the jets of air streaming out of the nozzles behind him massage his back. "I wonder what the poor people are doing?" he mused.

"Peeling grapes for the feast, I hope," she replied, handing Wind to him and ducking her head under the water. A couple of seconds later she came up and brushed her streaming hair back off her face with her hands. Vincent reached out and took her hand, pulling her over towards him, She lay next to him, her face flushed with the heat of he water as Wind kicked his legs and laughed.

"It could have been like this...well, maybe not at $800 a night, but...you know...the hot tub, the peeled grapes..." He looked around at the room and back at her face, her pale hair stuck to her shoulders with the water. "All I had to do was to become President of Lane Automotive Finishes."

_But you'd have had to do it without me,_ she thought. "Is it what you want?"

"No," he answered immediately. "God! I can't think of anything more boring."

"But all this..." she looked around.

"I've got all I want," he said gently, staring into her eyes as their lips met.

Half an hour later they climbed out of the tub, enjoying the sensation of standing naked before the floor to ceiling windows looking down on the town below and the lengthening mid-afternoon shadows of the reddening desert beyond.

"I guess I'd better go down and organise the wedding," Vincent said as he towelled off. "I hear it takes all of ten minutes so there shouldn't be too much of a wait."

"I might go and take a look around."

Amanda dressed herself and Wind after Vincent had left. As she buttoned his top she was seized by an irresistible urge that seemed to come out of nowhere. She picked him up and walked over to the zebra skin-upholstered seat next to the coffee table (_not real zebra skin, _she thought, _still, an incredibly good imitation...)_ and, picking up the telephone, dialled a familiar number, her heart pounding, fighting the urge to hang up as the line clicked and buzzed.

"_The number you have dialled is not available or has been disconnected. Please check the number and try again..._"

The colour drained from her face and she slowly put the receiver down, staring blankly into space.

"Ma ma ma ma ma," gurgled Wind.

She walked slowly over to him and picked him up as if in a dream, drifted across to the elevator and pressed the button. The door opened a minute later and she got in and pressed the button for the lobby. Stepping out, the people walking by and milling around barely registered, but the movement and bustle were distracting, taking her mind off it. _The number you have dialled is not available or has been disconnected..._

She looked around, wondering where Vincent had gone, and walked aimlessly, bouncing Wind gently. After perhaps ten minutes of random wandering with no sight of Vincent she sat down on a sofa in a bar, where it was quieter and people were talking quietly or sitting at the bar nursing drinks. _The number you have dialled..._

A tear dropped from her eye.

"You look as if you could use this."

She looked up to see the man who had picked up the old woman's purse. He put a scotch glass down in front of her, full to the brim with ice cubes and pale golden liquid., identical to one he held in his hand.

Amanda wiped an embarrassed hand across her cheek. "Thanks," she said, sniffing and smiling at him, "but I can't - I'm pregnant."

He cocked an eyebrow in an expression that was both comical and charming at the same time. "It's iced tea."

She looked down at the glass, picked it up, and took a hesitant sip, then a longer one. "It's delicious! Thank you!" She smiled.

"That's more like it," he said. "Okay, so it's none of my business, but what's a young lady like you doing crying on her wedding day? Do you mind?" He said, indicating the seat next to her.

"Oh, no - please..." she said as he sat down. She lifted the glass to her lips again, enjoying the coolness of the lemon tea and peering into the glass. "It's a long story," she said quietly. "It's...my parents. I wanted to call them but I couldn't get through..."

He nodded, as if to say "go on."

He had the kind of open and honest face that made her relax. "I...sort of..." she looked at Wind.

"Can I guess?" he asked gently. "Not married, baby on the way, parents couldn't accept it. My guess is that you ran away."

She stared at him. "How did you...?"

"It's not all that hard to figure out. I'm Italian and my parents were strict about that kind of thing too. Roman Catholic?"

She nodded.

"It figures. Not Italian though?"

"Irish."

"Ah. Same thing," he said, winking at her.

Amanda couldn't help smiling.

"He's cute," said the man, looking at Wind. "May I...?" He reached out for him and Amanda passed him over.

"His name's Wind."

"Nice!" he said, bouncing Wind up and down and making faces at him to Wind's delight. "My friends call me Dino," he said, smiling at her.

"Amanda, Amanda Lane - or at least I will be."

"So when's the wedding?"

"I don't know. Vincent's arranging it now. I guess it's too late for today, so I'm hoping tomorrow."

"You found somewhere to stay then?"

"Somewhere?" She laughed. "You wouldn't believe! It was the most incredible thing! We were..."

"Is this meshugganah goy bothering you, Madam? I'd be happy to call security and have him thrown out," came a voice from behind her.

She turned to see a short black man with close-cropped curly hair grinning at her.

"Don't you pay any attention to the Rabbi, here," Dino said to her, "You go and find yourself a nice Jewish girl. This one's taken...and not by me! Amanda, this is my buddy, Sam. Sam, Amanda."

Sam walked around in front of her, took her hand and kissed it. "Delighted, my dear."

Amanda laughed. "The pleasure's all mine, Sam."

"And this little bundle of Irish-American joy," added Dino, bouncing Wind on his knee, "is Wind."

"You're letting him hold your baby?" Sam said in mock horror. "I wouldn't trust him. Listen - I can call a Mohel, one little snip and, bingo - protection from the papists!"

Dino rolled his eyes, looking at Amanda with a resigned expression. "I can't take him anywhere without having him attack the one true faith!"

Amanda clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"That's better," said Dino, grinning at her. "Sam, this lovely lady's getting married in the chapel tomorrow."

"Well," said Sam, sitting down opposite her, "my heartiest congratulations on choosing someone more appropriate than this Italian..."

"Hey," interjected Dino, "since your parents won't be here, who's going to witness the marriage?"

"Witness?" Amanda asked.

"You need witnesses. The Casino can usually get a couple of staff to do it, but they charge ten bucks a head. If you haven't got anyone organised maybe Sam and me could..."

"Oh! That'd be great! Thank you!" she said, grinning. "You said you work here, Dino - and you, Sam?"

"Yeah, me too," said Sam. "But I'd love to come. Mind you, I always cry at weddings. Well - at Jewish weddings anyway."

"Uh oh," said Sam, holding Wind at arm's length, "I think someone needs a change of diaper."

Amanda blushed and, standing, took Wind from him. "Sorry, Dino. Uh - I don't know when the wedding's going to be."

"It's okay - they post a list on a notice board outside the chapel. We'll check in the morning and if we don't see you beforehand we'll just arrive. Don't you worry."

"Thank you so much," Amanda said quietly. "I didn't expect, uh,"

"I know," Dino said. "Vegas isn't exactly the friendliest place. The way you helped that little old lady yesterday...well, It's a pleasure to meet you, Amanda."

"See you tomorrow," she smiled, and hurried back to the elevator.

When she arrived Vincent was sitting on the sofa and he turned and smiled. "All organised," he said. "Ten fifteen start, out by ten twenty in time for the next one at ten thirty. They don't waste any time." He walked over to where she'd lain Wind down to change his diaper. "We need a couple of witnesses though. The casino can usually get some staff to do it for ten dollars each providing it's not too busy so we'll..."

"Oh," she said, looking up at him. "Get me the diaper bag would you? Anyway, it's okay. You know I told you about that nice man who helped with the old lady? He was in the bar and he bought me an iced tea. He's so sweet. I was telling him about the wedding and his friend, Sam, came and sat with us He said we'd need witnesses and he and Sam offered to come." She smiled as he came back with the diaper bag. "You should have heard them - they were a couple of natural comedians - I was laughing so hard. They must be on the night staff I guess."

"Great! Then I guess we're all set!" Vincent said.

**o0o**

Helen looked at her watch. She had ten minutes to get from the hairdresser's to the dress shop across the other side of town and she couldn't afford to be distracted by the thoughts that had kept her awake half the night. That this was to be the first time her father and Jake were to meet was the least of her problems.

She checked the mirror and pulled out behind a blue Lincoln, immediately realising that she'd made a mistake as it ambled along at twenty. Helen impatiently hugged its bumper, getting more and more agitated as its driver refused to speed up or pull over and let her pass. Finally she turned right into a side street and stepped on the gas. She cut left, paralleling the road she'd left, then left again, hoping that she'd be able to pull out in front of the Lincoln. But, as it usually does at times like these, the universe conspired against her and the Lincoln drove through the intersection just as she got there and pulled back in behind it.

"Damn!" she breathed, hitting the wheel with her fist.

Finally she pulled in out side the dress shop with a screech of tires just as the door closed. Throwing the car door open she ran up and knocked, to see the woman inside turn and, recognising her, walk back and open the door.

"Miss Barksdale - you only just made it!"

Jake stepped back and looked in the mirror.

If he had anything to thank Mad Dog for it was for having the foresight - or at least the simple desire to screw the system - to have been insured up to the hilt when he died. Still, Jake had been used to living on a shoestring and now that money wasn't a problem he didn't spend it profligately - but he hadn't stinted on the rented tuxedo or the orchid corsage. He straightened the purple velvet bow tie one last time and headed back into the dorm to put his toothbrush and toothpaste away.

"Whoo-ee, Jakey. You're lookin' sharp as a knacker's knife."

Jake grinned at Willy, who was lying back on his bunk. "Gonna be a big night, Willy."

"I surely do hope so, buddy. You have a good time now."

"I mean to, man," he said and, hearing the cab's horn sound outside, strode off.

As the cab pulled up outside Helen's house the cabbie turned to look at Jake in the back seat. "Hey - I remember you! I brought you and your buddy here a while ago? How's he doin'? Has he managed to - you know...?"

Jake reached over and gave him the fare, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say that it's gone from bad to worse. He really got himself in the shit a couple of days ago at camp."

"Well," the cabbie said, "I hope it comes out for him. He's a lucky guy to have buddies like you."

Jake smiled, and he stepped out of the cab and walked up the path to the Barksdale's front door.

Arthur Barksdale poured himself a scotch and waited for the doorbell to ring. It wasn't so much the constant stream of boys - dogs gathering around bitches on heat - that bothered him. That was inevitable and he'd had a few years to prepare himself for it. But he wanted the girls to end up with decent boyfriends, at least potential husbands, and all of the ones that they - that Rita, to be honest - had brought home had been pissant phonies.

When it came down to it, Arthur thought, taking a sip of Chivas and letting it slide down, he'd prefer it if they'd just come out and say what they were after. At least they wouldn't play those damn games, imagining that he couldn't see through them as if they were plate glass. Pissants.

And now Helen. Soon it'd be Amy. And then just the two if them again. It was a relief when the doorbell rang - his thoughts were getting morbid. Carrying the scotch he walked over to the door and opened it, taking in Helen's date at a glance. _Rented tux, lurid purple bow tie, hm - shiny shoes, looks as if he's used to dressing neatly._

"Hi Mister Barksdale. I'm Jake Morgendorffer, Helen's date for the prom."

"Come in, son. She won't be long I expect. Have a seat," Arthur said, showing him in.

Jake thanked him and sat down, trying to seem as relaxed as possible and thinking of the swimming duck - calm on the surface and furious activity underneath.

"Pour you a drink, Jake?"

"Oh, uh, thanks, Mr Barksdale. No - I don't drink."

_That's one point, _Ted thought. _None of Rita's dates has ever refused._

"So, Jake. What do you do?"

"I'm a cadet at Buxton Ridge, Sir."

"Oh? I'd expect you to wear your dress uniform to something like this, not a rented tuxedo."

"Er, well, Helen's not exactly...let's say military-minded. She didn't say anything to me but I thought she'd prefer this."

_Thoughtful._ "Mm. That's Helen alright. So what do..."

"Oh wow," Jake interrupted. He stood up, walked over to the credenza, and picked up a model airplane. Turning to Mister Barksdale he said "You build model planes? This is beautiful!"

Ted stood up and walked over to Jake. _Uh oh - here we go. The games start. _"Thanks. You like model aircraft?"

"Yeah - well, I used to. But I've never made anything as good as this." He turned it over, admiring the detail.

_Let's just see, shall we?_ "The P38 Lightening. Quite a plane."

Jake looked at him nervously. "Uh, Mr Barksdale, this is a Northrop P61 Black Widow, not the Lockheed Lightening."

"Oh?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, they're superficially similar, I mean they both have twin tail booms but the P61 had a more rounded nose and a bulbous canopy - if you look closely..." He turned to Ted. "But, uh, if you built this model you must know..."

Ted smiled. "Just my little joke, Jake. I..." He noticed that Jake was staring past him, his mouth open, and he turned to see what he was looking at.

Helen stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing dress of soft mint green that clung to her upper body then suddenly flared at the waist. Its slender spaghetti straps were covered with a short bolero jacket that clasped together low across her neck. The dress fell just short of her ankles where a pair of dyed-to-match heels gave her an inch or two in height, her hair pulled up in a French twist revealing a pair of tiny pearl drop earrings. Delicate copper-coloured ringlets cascaded down her face.

Jake and Arthur stood in stunned silence as Helen's eyes flicked back and forth between them, waiting for a sign of what their first meeting had been like.

Jake slowly walked up to her, his heart beating like a triphammer, holding the corsage in front of him with both hands. As he neared her he discerned a faintly exotic scent - one, he was sure, that never came out of a bottle.

Arthur watched in disbelief, staggered at how beautiful his eldest daughter looked, but still analysing their interaction. Jake's honest and respectful correction had scored him some serious points, and all the indications so far was that this one wasn't like the ones that Rita had brought home (_never more than once_, he thought). But this would be telling.

Staring wordlessly into her clear brown eyes, Jake slowly raised the corsage. "You're beautiful," he breathed.

_God, isn't she?_ Arthur thought, his own heart beating faster, remembering how Maureen had looked twenty-five years ago. _She was beautiful too. _He felt a lump come to his throat.

Helen blushed, suddenly feeling the weight of her father's and her...boyfriend's (?)...gaze. She gently reached out and took the corsage and looked down at the perfect white orchid, back to Jake's still-staring eyes, and over to her father. "Dad?" She breathed, holding it out for his inspection.

Arthur gathered himself, and walked slowly over to them. He took the corsage, looked closely, and smiled at Jake. "It's perfect, son." Then, looking back at Helen, he said "And so are you." He opened the clear plastic case that the flower came in and turned to Jake. "May I...?"

Jake tore his gaze away from Helen to see what Arthur was talking about. "Oh - yeah - yes, of course!"

Arthur gently lifted Helen's jacket and pinned the orchid on, then stepped back to look.

Arthur and Jake turned to each other...and smiled. Arthur held out his hand and Jake took it, gripping firmly.

"Look after her, son."

"You can count on it," Jake said quietly.

"Well now, isn't that touching?"

They spun round to see Amy standing next to Maureen, who looked as if she half way between a smile and the desire to scold Amy. Behind them, Rita stood leaning against the door frame, a bored expression on her face.

Amy walked into the room and looked Helen up and down. "Gee. It's amazing what that yearly bath'll do!"

Flicking her gaze back to Jake, who laughed as her mother breathed "Amy!" in horror, she said "You scrub up pretty well too, General Patton. If I was thirty years older I'd go for you myself!"

"If you were thirty years older, Kiddo, you'd be my mother," laughed Jake.

Arthur stared at Amy's return smile, intrigued at the lack of rancour between them. On the few occasions she's spoken to any of Rita's dates she'd carved them up like a Thanksgiving turkey - not that they were sharp enough to realise what she was doing. But there seemed to be genuine affection between this boy and his youngest daughter. Amy was, he thought, if nothing else, a pretty keen judge of character.

Helen had watched the interplay closely and she'd caught a whiff of the details. But it was enough for their first meeting - time to end it. "We'd better go," she said and, taking Jake's hand, led him to the door.

"Uh - 'bye everyone," Jake said lamely as Helen dragged him out.

"Don't be too late!" Maureen called as the door closed.

Arthur stood, staring at the door, thoughts and sensations cascading through him.

"It's okay, Dad. He's a good guy."

His gaze snapped onto Amy.

"I mean it. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer - Helen's gonna to have to look after _him_ most likely - but he's..." she sighed. "...genuine. Isn't he, Rita?"

Rita opened her mouth ready to launch a string of invective when she saw Amy slowly turn towards her with an expression that said _one wrong word and your ass is mine._

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"What? I didn't hear you," said Amy.

"He's nice," Rita said, and she spun on her heel and walked off.

**o0o**

Amanda and Vincent stood in the queue outside the chapel behind an older couple who were restless, excited by the prospect of their pending nuptials. A few of their friends were waiting with them, joking and laughing. In a few minutes the previous customers were shot out of the production line and Luke and Norma Jo (as their friends had called them) went in for their turn. Vincent held Wind over his shoulder and he and Amanda smiled nervously at each other, exchanging the odd word. both feeling a little strange.

"I hope your friends turn up," he said.

"They will."

"I wonder what happens if they don't?"

"I don't know. I guess we lose our money and have to come back. Don't worry. They'll be here. Oh - that reminds me - give me two tens, please."

But Amanda's friends hadn't arrived when their names were called, and they walked into the chapel as Luke and Norma Jo and their friends came out, talking and laughing.

"Witnesses?" asked a bored-looking middle aged woman.

"They're coming," said Amanda, hoping that they were.

"Orright then, honey, go on down the front. I'll set 'm down when they arrive."

They walked up to a low platform on which a short, dapper man in a blue suit and gold-rimmed spectacles stood, smiling at them.

"Howdy there," he looked down at the book in his hand, "Vincent and Amanda. I'm Thomas J Lindquist, licensed by the state o' Nevada to solemnise weddin's and perform funerals. My guess is that you folks ain't here for the funeral today?"

Amanda laughed nervously at his stock joke, and smiled.

"You got witnesses, folks, 'cause if y' ain't you're gonna have to..." He stopped and looked past them, his eyes wide.

Amanda turned to see Dino and Sam smile at her and wave, saying something to the woman who'd met them at the door. Amanda interpreted Mr Lindquist's expression as surprise that one of their witnesses was a black man, and a wave of anger passed over her. "Give him to me," she said to Vincent, taking Wind from him and turning to Dino and Sam, who had sat down in the front row. She handed Wind to Sam. "Thanks," she said, smiling gratefully at them.

Sam took Wind and grinned at her. "Mazel tov, Amanda."

"Congratulations, honey," said Dino. "You'd better get back. I think Vincent's getting nervous."

She grinned back and turned to see Vincent and Mr Lindquist staring open-mouthed, and she shot them both a quick scowl as she turned to rejoin Vincent.

Thomas J Lindquist cleared his throat and Vincent turned back to the front.

"Vincent Lane and Amanda Phillips," he started, glancing past them again. "The documents you have provided to this office of the Nevada Marriage Bureau state that you are both of eighteen years of age or older, that you are of sound mind, and that that there is no other impediment to your marriage. The state of Nevada recognises marriage as the commitment of a man and a woman to each other in a commited relationship..."

Amanda heard a sniffle from behind her, and Sam's voice saying "So moving." She clenched her jaw trying to stifle a laugh.

"...for life. And so I must ask you..." he looked down at his sheet again "...Vincent, do you take Amanda to be your wife in compliance with the laws of the state of Nevada and the regulations and requirements of the Nevada Marriage Bureau?"

_Sniff_

"I do."

"And do you, Amanda, take Vincent to be your husband also in accordance with the laws of the state of Nevada and the regulations and requirements of the Nevada Marriage Bureau?"

_Sniff...oof_

Amanda glanced behind her to see Dino withdraw the elbow that he'd used to poke Sam in the ribs, and her eyes sparkled as she turned back to Mr Lindquist. "I...do." She clamped her jaw again and tried to look serious as Wind gurgled happily in Sam's lap.

"Then by the powers vested in me by the Governor of the state of Nevada, it is my honour to declare you both man and wife. Congratulations. Here is your commemorative certificate which you and your...witnesses..." he cast another glance towards Dino and Sam, "...must sign before you leave this chapel in order for your wedding to be officially recorded." He handed Vincent a rolled piece of paper tied with a red ribbon, and Amanda turned, half grinning and half laughing, and kissed Vincent deeply.

"Miss Smyth," said Mr Lindquist, "I'm taking a short break." he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to mop his forehead and walking off through a door behind in the back wall.

"Congratulations, Vincent!" Sam grabbed Vincent's hand and pumped it as they unclinched, then turned to Amanda, holding Wind out to her, and said "I'd like to present you with this fine bouncing baby boy, a gift of the State of Nevada and the Nevada Marriage Bureau, as a souvenir of this wonderful day."

Amanda burst out laughing as she took Wind, while Vincent stared in disbelief.

"Told you," added Dino. "Can't take him anywhere. Congratulations, Vincent, you're a lucky man." He shook Vincent's hand and turned to Amanda. "I'm sorry about my Jewish buddy here," he said, "I hope he didn't bother you."

"Bother me?" Amanda laughed, shaking her head. "You turned it into something to remember. Thank you both!" She said, kissing Dino and Sam on the cheek. "Oh, that reminds me..." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the two tens that Vincent had given her and handed one to each of them, to Vincent's amazed stare.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," said Sam, hurriedly stuffing the bill into his pocket. "But since you offered..."

Dino smiled. "Thank you very much. Now - let's sign that certificate and get out of here - Miss Smyth's anxious to get the next ceremony underway." He took the paper from Vincent and walked back to the table that was set up by the entry with a cheap ballpoint pen on a string. He signed and passed the certificate to Sam. Vincent signed next, gurgling incoherently and handing the pen to Amanda.

"Well good luck, folks. I hope we'll see you again before you leave. And thanks again for the privilege," said Dino, and he and Sam walked off towards the bar.

Amanda took Vincent's hand and led him over to the elevator. "How could you?" she said, sounding faintly annoyed. "They were such nice people!"

**o0o**

They drove towards the high school in contemplative silence, Jake still reeling from his 'interview' with Mr Barksdale and Helen worried over how well it had gone. She drove, her mint-green heels on the seat beside her, worrying about the future. She'd come to care deeply for jake, something she neither expected nor wanted...or did she? She had plans and he probably did too. Even now she wasn't sure she could bring herself to do what she knew she needed to. Could she really break things off? Did she want to? It would be easier on both of them if it was done sooner rather than later.

Just then something white flashed towards the road and suddenly there was a doe, frozen dead-centre in her headlights. She pumped the brakes and threw the wheel to the left, managing to avoid the stunned creature, but before she could swerve back onto the road the car's wheels slipped off into the muddy embankment. She stopped the car, sitting there shaking for a moment or two, her heart thudding over the words she knew Jake was speaking, drowning them out.

Slowly the sounds of the world came back and she heard the car's motor roaring and the noise of a wheel spinning in the mud. Jake leaned across her and turned off the ignition. The roaring stopped and everything went quiet. She turned to look at him, her eyes as wide as the doe's, and opened her mouth to speak - but all that came out was a low wail and, to her horror, she burst into tears.

Jake slid over and put his arms around her, holding her tight while the shock worked its way out in sobs.

Eventually she calmed down and was able to look at him and speak. "Oh God - I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "We're alright, that's the important thing. I'll get out and see what's happened."

He pushed the door handle down and the door and it fell open. The car was on a tilt of about twenty degrees and he climbed out carefully to avoid slipping further down the embankment. "Is there a flashlight in the glove compartment?" he asked, and Helen slid over to the passenger side to open the door.

"No. Damn. Hold on - there's a box of matches - will that do?"

"Yeah - it's better then nothing. It's really dark." He reached in and took the matchbox from her and struck one. By its flickering light he could see that the rear wheel had dug itself into the mud up the axle. The front wheel was... "Ow! Dammit!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just let the match burn down too far."

He struck another and carefully made his way around to the front of the car, steadying himself against the slippery mud. A third match showed the the passenger side wheel was only an inch or so deep in the mud, not that that helped. Making his way around to the driver's side he could see that everything was okay, but the rear wheel was only just touching the ground.

"I don't know," he said to Helen, who'd wound down the window. "The back wheel's really dug in. We'll have to try to get it out. I'll get behind and push. You start the motor and, when I say go, drop it into low and accelerate slowly."

"Okay," said Helen, starting the motor.

Jake walked round to the back of the car, realising in order for it to work he'd have to lift nearly two tons of steel a foot off the ground and push it up a twenty degree slope. But, as it so often does, masculine pride overcame common sense and he bent down, gripping the bumper bar and leaning into the back of the car to get maximum purchase.

"Okay - put it into drive and slowly give it some gas."

The transmission clunked as the gears engaged. The motor slowly picked up speed and the car inched forward so, for a second, Jake thought that it was actually going to work. It didn't, of course. As the differential fed power to the wheels the one with least resistance took it all and it started to spin, flinging up a fine spray of pale brown mud.

"TURN IT OFF!" Jake yelled, letting go of the bumper bar and standing up. "Goddamncrapydamnpieceofdamncrap..." he muttered as he walked back round to the driver's window.

"I guess it didn't work," Helen asked, not realising that Jake had been spray-painted since his pants were hidden by the door.

"You could put it that way," Jake grumbled. "Not that it'd make any difference now. I couldn't go like this."

"What do you mean?" Helen asked. Jake stepped back.

Helen groaned. The prom was a lost cause now. Even if they could get the car back on the road Jake was right. But it wasn't the prospect of missing the prom that bothered her. She knew that the prom was supposed to be important. All the kids - all the girls anyway - had been talking about if for six months as if it was the most important thing in their lives. It probably was, Helen had gone with the flow, but it hadn't..._moved_ her, she hadn't shared their excitement. She hadn't been able to _feel_ it the way they did. The dress, the hair, the shoes - it had been all they'd talked about. But while they'd spent their weekends planning things down to the shade of eyeliner, Helen had been going to anti-war rallies. When they'd asked her what she was going to wear she'd had to say that she didn't know. If she'd been honest with herself she'd have added that she didn't really care. Everything had been a last minute rush, and she'd only just managed to pick up the dress in time. She'd had other things on her mind. There had been times when she'd wanted to ask them what the big deal was, when there was so much going on, when they were about to gain their freedom, all they could think about was the prom? But it should have mattered to her, she knew.

Only once, for a brief second or two, had she felt a flicker of understanding...when Jake had turned and looked at her tonight and she'd seen that look on his face...

She sighed inwardly.

In those rare moments when Helen had imagined her first boyfriend he hadn't been anything like Jake. Not that she'd thought about it for a few years. _And speaking of things not turning out the way you'd imagined_, she thought, _there was the stunt driver_. _I wonder what his name was? _If there'd been anything good about that little episode it was that, sometimes, she smiled sardonically at the thought of how Rita would react if she'd known. Rita. Rita was probably all bluster, her quasi-sexual exploits just her way of making sure that there'd be _something_ she was better at than her older sister. _Something_ she'd be more knowledgeable about than her younger sister. Rita was probably still a virgin but she made so much capital out of pointing out to Helen that _she_ was. Helen smiled at the thought of how Rita would react if she knew...

And she remembered Jake looking at her like _that_ again.

_There are three kinds of people_, she remembered hearing, _people who make things happen, people who watch things happen, and people who wonder what happened._ Jake was somewhere between the second and third, she thought. Even when he'd flattened Kowalski, it had been, almost, as if it hadn't quite been Jake, as if something else had taken over, leaving Jake firmly planted in the third camp, standing there staring at Kowalski with an expression that said "whoa -what happened?"

But he'd done it, and she'd...liked him for it.

The thing about Jake was that he was...real. There was nothing hidden about him. He seemed...nice...sweet...because that was what he _was_. And now he was going to feel dreadful because...and if she did what she knew she had to do she was going to feel dreadful too. _If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly_, she thought, remembering the essay she'd written on Macbeth six months ago, and she made up her mind.

She opened the car door and stepped out.

"No!" he yelled, "It's mud..."

"Give me the matches. I want to see."

"Helen - get back in the car! Please..."

She snatched the matches from his hand, ignoring the gluggy feeling of the mud between her toes, and lit one. Jake saw her look sadly at the ruin that was his pants. He felt terrrible that her big night was ruined and he tried to think of something comforting to say, but she immediately turned toward the back of the car, dropping the spent match onto the ground.

"Where are we stuck?"

"On the other side, but I wouldn't try to..." He groaned as she made her way along the side of the car, steadying herself with one hand as she slooshed and glugged her way through the slippery mud. At the back of the car she turned down the slope of the embankment and Jake hurried towards her, yelling "Stop! Helen it's..."

As Helen turned downslope and lost the prop of the car to lean against she started slipping. Jake heard a quiet "eep" as he saw her turn momentarily towards him, a look of helplessness in her eyes, and he stood rooted to the spot as she built up speed and, inevitably, lost her balance. She sat down and slid down the short slope to the bottom of the embankment like a child on a toboggan. At the bottom she stopped, motionless, and as Jake carefully glopped his way to the back of the car she turned, just in time to see him lose his footing and follow her, sliding to the bottom where he sat beside her, mud piled up in front of him.

Like Helen, he sat motionless for a couple of seconds and, as the unpleasant wetness seeped through his clothes, an involuntary sound somewhere between a grunt and squeak escaped as he looked down at his legs. Slowly he turned towards Helen, his glance passing over her stockinged legs as the dress, colourless in the pale light of a crescent moon, had ridden up around her calves as she'd slid down the slope, to see her looking at him. Their eyes locked, and, slowly, the corners of their mouths turned up and they burst out laughing.

Jake stood up, the mud sucking at his legs, and reached out his hands to Helen. She took them and, as she stood, looked down at the sorry mess and tried to smoothed the fabric, only succeeding in wiping smears of mud down it.

Remembering the pale green vision that he'd seen standing in front of him half an hour ago, Jake's heart sank, and he said "I'm...really sorry, Helen."

"It's not your fault, Jake," she said softly and, holding each other's hands for balance, they started climbing the few slippery steps back up to where the car lay like a wounded animal.

"I'll see if I can get someone to stop and help," he said. "There's some traffic." He opened the car door for Helen to get in, but she put her hand against it, stopping him.

"I don't want to get in - we should let it dry and try to brush it off." She paused. "And, besides...um, maybe we could just spend some time...talking."

Jake was puzzled. What was there to talk about? But the prospect of spending time with Helen, just the two of them, alone, on a warm, dark, mid-Spring night, was an attractive proposition. "Uh, sure. We could, um, sit on the trunk I guess. We'll have to wash it anyway."

Helen smiled agreement and they edged round to the back of the car. Jake lifted Helen up onto the trunk then turned round and levered himself up to sit beside her. For a minute or two they just sat, Jake waiting for Helen to start and she not sure how to.

"What have you got planned for the vacation? And next year," she asked finally.

Jake thought for a minute. "I don't know," he sighed. "I can't believe that it's graduation and I haven't even thought about it. I was worried about getting drafted, but...I'm the last male in my family so they won't draft me."

"Ah," Helen answered non-committaly. "That's good."

"Yeah."

Another minute passed awkwardly. Jake mightn't have been the most perceptive of people but he could see where this was going, and he braced himself as he asked the inevitable question. "How about you?"

"I wasn't sure until a week ago. Now I know."

Jake looked round at her. "Oh. What...?"

"I'm still hoping to get into Berkeley, but I'm going to take a year off first."

Jake hadn't expected that. "What, um, happened to make you decide to do that?"

"I got a letter from a friend."

Jake's heart sank. "Oh. What did he say?"

_Damn, this is hurting him already. _"She."

"Ah." The pain eased a little.

Helen paused. "It was...it...opened my eyes." She turned to him. "Sorry - I mean it made me realise that there are things I want to...experience...before I commit to more study." She stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocussed. "Her name's Anne. She used to live down the road from me when we were kids. She's a few years older than me, but we were good friends. We still are. She took up with a guy when she was a high school senior and when she graduated they hit the road. She writes every now and then."

"Uh huh," said Jake.

"She lives in San Francisco now," Helen continued. "She's really into the hippie thing, but they do a lot of travelling around, anti-Viet Nam rallies, that sort of thing, but mainly just to see America."

Helen's voice was wistful, and Jake found himself thinking how nice it would be...

"Yeah. Anyway, they went camping with some friends." She turned, suddenly, to Jake. "Have you ever seen a birth? I mean - did you have cats or anything?"

"Cats? No." A look of anger appeared on Jake's face. "I always wanted a cat. But Dad'd never let me have one! 'Only girls have cats!' he said. Jakey could never have cats. Oh no. It was dogs or nothing as far as Mad Dog was...!" He turned to see Helen staring at him with wide eyes. "I just wanted...a cat..." he tailed off.

"Oh. Well, anyway, the girl they went with was pregnant, and she wasn't supposed to have the baby for another week, but it decided to come early. They couldn't get out - the storm blew a tree down across the only road out."

"Wow. What did they do?"

"The only thing they could. Anne had to deliver the baby."

"Was it alright?"

"Yes." She paused. "You should have seen how she wrote about it, Jake." She was speaking quietly, almost whispering. "It just...it was like I was there. It made me shiver. The way she described how it felt when the baby came out and she held it."

Jake found himself lost in the vision, suddenly beginning to sense the possibilities again, and he breathed a sighed "Wow!"

"They weren't married. The mother and father I mean. Kyle - that's Anne's guy - her 'old man' she calls him," she said, smiling. "His name's Kyle Owen Thomas Yeager - everyone's called him 'Coyote' since he was a little kid..."

"Coyo...oh yeah! His initials!" Jake said.

"Uh huh. Anyway, Coyote 'married' them while the baby was being born. The way she told the story, Jake - it made me cry."

"They're just a couple of years older than us, right?"

"That's right."

"I understand."

Helen looked at him. He was looking straight ahead. She wasn't sure how he was reacting. "Yeah. Jake..."

"You're going away, aren't you?"

**o0o**

Amanda put the key into the lock below the elevator buttons, her annoyance level rising.

"How...wha...?" stuttered Vincent. "What do you mean, 'how could I'?"

"I mean just because Sam was black was no reason to be so rude! I didn't think that you cared about that sort of thing!'

"Because he was...black...?" he said. "Do you have any idea who they were?"

"I told you! Dino and Sam! They work here."

The elevator arrived and they stepped out.

"You really don't know who they were, do you?" he said, incredulous. "You have no idea!"

"What does it matter?" she asked, a note of annoyance in her voice as she lay Wind on the bed. "Look - they signed the certificate. Show me!"

He handed the rolled-up certificate to her and she slipped the ribbon off and unrolled it. While she looked for their signature, Vincent noticed an envelope propped up on the counter, with 'Mr. and Mrs. Lane' scrawled across the front. He opened it and pulled out a trio of tickets, just as Amanda found what she was looking for.

Her face went pale.

"Oh my God..." she breathed, sitting down heavily and letting the certificate fall to the floor.

**o0o o0o**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: Kara Wild, Malevolent Turtle, Bootstrapper, and very special thanks to Steven Galloway and Brother Grimace for their invaluable help and support, particulary with the character of George Curtiss "Cooky" Washington.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	11. Different Roads

All My Children by Thea Zara and Deref Chapter 11: Different Roads **o0o o0o**

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I can't believe you didn't know," Vincent said as he turned onto Route 95.

"No-one'll believe us you know."

"We've got the certificate."

"I was so embarrassed. When Dino came down off the stage and came over to sing That's Amore..."

Vincent laughed. "You know what I liked best?"

"No. what?"

"When...when..." Vincent's eyes were watering from the strain of stopping himself from laughing, "when you gave them ten dollars each!"

"You BASTARD," she yelled, punching him on the shoulder before they both started laughing uncontrollably and Vincent had to pull over by the side of the road.

"You ...you gave Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Junior ten...ten...dollars for being w...witnesses! After Dean Martin had paid sixteen hundred dollars for the VIP suite...for TWO NIGHTS!"

After the hysterics were over she gazed at him. "You don't think they were insulted do you?"

"Insulted? No. I think they enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe more. If they'd been insulted do you think they'd have said those nice things about you at the show?"

She smiled. "I still can't believe it."

**o0o**

Helen quietly slid the key into the lock, turned it gently, and eased the door open. The living room was empty and though it was only ten-thirty the house was quiet and she hoped, against experience, that everyone had gone to bed early. She turned and closed the door, turning the lock quietly so as not to...

"Well I've heard about rolling in the hay, but rolling in the mud? Is this some strange new hippie thing that hasn't gone mainstream yet?"

Helen turned to see Amy standing in the kitchen, a glass of milk in her hand, smirking. Suppressing a strong desire to yell at her youngest sister, Helen shushed her and whispered "We had an accident."

Amy's eyes opened wide. "You're pregnant? Already?"

As Helen's hands closed around Amy's throat she heard her father say "Amy - I don't think this is either the time or the place. Okay, Helen - what happened?"

Helen blushed. "I just want to get out of..." she looked down at her dress, "...this and take a shower then go to bed. Everything's alright - the car's not damaged and neither are we, but it's dirty. I dropped Jake back at Buxton Ridge. I'll pick him up in the morning and we'll wash the car."

"But did you...?"

"We never made it to the prom. Look, Daddy, I'll tell you about it over breakfast, okay?" Without waiting for an answer she turned and trudged up the stairs.

"Just wait a moment please, Honey," Arthur said gently. "Amy, go to bed please."

"But I want to..."

"I said bed, Amy I want to talk to your sister."

"Do I have to? Just when things were getting interesting?"

Arthur glared at Amy. Knowing that resistance was futile when that look was on his face she turned and climbed reluctantly upstairs to bed, watched every step of the way by Arthur. When her door closed he turned and took Helen's hand, holding it gently.

"Honey, nothing 'happened' tonight, did it? I mean aside from the accident?"

Helen looked into his eyes and, realising what he was asking, blushed, and squeezed his hand. "No, Daddy. Nothing like that. I just...I don't know where we stand. I mean I like him, a lot actually, but we're going our separate ways soon and I just don't know, you know?"

Arthur smiled, reached up, and kissed her on the forehead. "I think so, Honey. I'm sure that things will work themselves out. You're sure you're okay?"

Helen nodded and forced out a little smile.

"Goodnight then," he said, squeezing her hand once again and watching her as she climbed the stairs to bed.

"So how did you get the car out of the ditch?" Helen's father asked as he poured a glass of grapefruit juice.

Helen spread a slice of peanut-buttered toast with grape jelly. "Jake hitched into town and got a tow truck to pull the car back onto the road."

"Well," Arthur sighed, looking up from his paper, "I suppose I should scold you for not being more careful. You know that there are deer along that road at night."

"I was being careful. We weren't going fast..." she turned and glared at Amy. "...and I wasn't distracted. It just jumped out in front of me."

"I didn't say anything," Amy said, a picture of innocence.

"I'm glad that neither of you was hurt," said Maureen. "But I'm so sorry that you missed the prom. And that beautiful dress..."

"I'm not," Helen said, stirring a cup of coffee. "The dress'll be fine." She glanced up at Rita who was eating a bowl of Corn Flakes. "Maybe you can wear it next year. It's not as if anyone's seen it."

Rita rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. Right. I'll wear the dress that you..." she stopped, seeing Amy glance at her. "I'll get a new one, thank you."

"How much did the tow cost?" Arthur asked, more to defuse a potential explosion than because he cared about the price.

"I don't know." Helen took a large bite out of her toast and chewed thoughtfully. "Jake paid for it. I tried to stop him," she added quickly before her parents could object. "I don't know...I think he felt guilty - as if it was his fault. I just seemed easier to let him pay for it and argue about it later."

She gulped down her coffee and stood up. "Okay - I'm going to pick Jake up from Buxton Ridge. See you in half an hour."

Helen walked out, grateful for the excuse to stop the story there. The last thing she wanted to do was to tell her mother about where their talk last night had ended. Not that Helen really understood it herself. She'd meant it to be the "let's be friends" talk, but it hadn't ended up that way...at least she didn't think it had. They'd never really gone beyond a friendly kiss and holding hands - neither of them had seemed willing to take it any further. Maybe it was just common sense. After all, Jake would be leaving for home or college after graduation and that was only a week away. Neither of them had imagined...well...done anything...talked about what might happen after that, so they'd probably just both assumed that they'd go their separate ways. She hadn't been particularly surprised that he'd seemed hurt when she told him about her plans to go and spend a year with Willow and Coyote, but it was just bringing the inevitable on a little sooner. That was all. But...when he'd asked her to go with him to Willy's and Hilda's wedding she'd agreed so quickly. It was a crazy idea. It'd only make things harder. She should have refused.

So why hadn't she?  
__ **o0o**

"Well, I can't say as I've been to a lot o' proms in my time, Jakey, but I always kinda imagined that they'd involve dancin' and, well, you know, that sort o' thing. But hey - I'm a farm boy - ain't never been afraid of a little mud," Willy said. "So I guess we oughta think seriously about rubber boots next week."

"Ho ho. Very funny," Jake muttered as he shed his mud-caked clothes. "I'm gonna hit the showers."

Ten minutes later, clean and pyjamad, Jake lay in his bunk, his head draped over the edge as he quietly told Willy the story.

"So why did you pay for the tow truck, Jakey?"

Jake paused the shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just...you should have seen her, Willy. She was so beautiful...and ten minutes later she was covered in mud. I felt so bad."

"Yeah, I guess I understand, Jakey. But she's gonna come to the wedding - that's great, man!"

"Yeah. Great." Jake said, his tone and expression contradicting him.

Willy got up and leaned against the top bunk. "Spill it, Jakey. Something's eating you, man."

Jake stared at the ceiling. "I dunno, Willy...it's just...it's all happened too late."

Willy waited for Jake to explain.

"I don't know what I mean. I wish...I wish there'd been time to work out...I mean I knew how I felt about Amanda, but...I don't know what Helen thinks...or what she feels, I don't know what I'm going to do. Everything's just up in the air. The timing's all wrong."

"But she said she'd come to the wedding, man - that's gotta be good."

Jake turned towards him. "You'd think so, but I dunno, Willy. I really want her to come, but it's just delaying things. She's gonna go away afterwards, but...damn, man - we're gonna be together - alone - for a few days at least. What happens if we get...you know...if we get..."

"I understand, man."

"...yeah. And then she has to go - and I have to go, and - man, it's so complicated! I tell you, Willy, I swear that if...you know...it happens, I'm not gonna let her down. Ever."

Willy paused and looked up at him. "None of us knows what's around the corner, man. You can plan ahead, you can avoid doin' dumb things like gettin' involved with someone 'cause you know it can't work out...but you just never know." He had a kind of faraway look. "Pa always said to me that ya gotta take life as it comes at ya. And you hippies - what do you say? Go with the flow? Means the same thing, man. And the same thing as that Cath'lic guy said - 'carpay deeum - seize the day'. I remember that."

Jake smiled, as much at hearing Willy call him a hippie as at his advice. "Yeah. I guess you're right, Willy. Thanks, man."

Willy laughed. "I don't remember much o' what I learnt here, Jakey, but I remember when they told us about that and I thought 'yeah - that's just what Pa used say'. Anyway, I'm goin' t' sleep. You sleep well, man."

"You too, Willy."

**o0o**

"So did you tell your parents about...you know...?" Jake asked as they pulled into the Barksdales' drive.

"The wedding? No. I thought I'd tell them today."

"Uh, it might be better if you..."

"Waited until you weren't here? Why Jake - you're a coward!"

Jake blushed, missing the small smirk on Helen's face. "I never said I wasn't."

Helen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I hadn't meant to subject you to it. But you _do_ know the 'duck and cover' routine - right?"

Half an hour later Helen was hosing the soap off the hood and Jake had his head buried in the trunk with the vacuum cleaner roaring behind him. Neither of them heard Arthur Barksdale walk up.

"You're doing a good job, kids. I want you to get it nice and clean for its new owner."

Helen spun round to look at him while Jake, oblivious over the noise of the vacuum cleaner, kept cleaning out the trunk. "New owner? But what...?" She followed his gaze over to the brand new gold '69 Dodge Dart parked at the kerb.

She looked up at him. "You bought a new car? Wow! Hold this!" Handing him the hose she went round to tap Jake on the shoulder. Startled, he stood up, bumping his head on the trunk lid.

"Ow! What the...?"

"Look!" Helen said, pointing.

"Oh, cool! That's a Stinger. Does it belong to someone you know?"

"It's Daddy's," Helen laughed. "He just bought it!"

They walked over the new car and looked it over admiringly as Arthur turned off the faucet and walked back to them. "Take a quick look, kids, but I want you to hurry up and get the old one sparkling, then I want you to fill it up at the Texaco downtown. I expect the new owner to take delivery..." he looked at his watch, "...within the hour."

"I'll miss the old car," Helen said. "It's been good."

"Well, if the new owner looks after it well it'll be a good car for a long time yet. Now come on, back to work you two." He reached into his pocket. "Oh - Helen, would you go in and get the ten dollar bill off the hall stand, Honey? When you've finished I want you to fill it with gas and check the tires and the oil."

"Okay, Daddy," Helen said, heading for the door as Arthur turned to Jake.

"Jake," Arthur said quietly as he watched Helen go inside, "when Helen goes to fill up the car I wonder if you'd stay behind. I'd like a little chat."

"Uh, sure Mr Barksdale," Jake said nervously.

"Please don't say anything Helen. I'll ask you to give me a hand with something just before she goes."

"Okay," Jake replied, wondering what was in store.

Fifteen minutes later the red 1963 Dart shone.

"Okay, let's go and fill it up," Helen said.

"Uh, sure," Jake replied, turning to see Arthur walking towards them.

"Oh. Jake, I wonder if you'd mind giving me a hand with the mower - I need someone to hold the spleen widget while I tighten the grommet."

"Sure Mister Barksdale," he said. "You go ahead, Helen, I'll stay here and help your Dad."

"Okay - watch out for that spleen widget," she said. "They can be dangerous you know, particularly if you catch a hangnail in them."

Twenty minutes later Helen walked in and tossed the keys on the hallstand. "Daddy, I'm back," she called. "Did you get that grommet tightened?"

Arthur and Jake walked out of the office. "Yes, thank you Honey. Is the car all done?"

"Gas tank filled, tires at recommended pressure, oil checked, radiator topped up, battery acid checked." She said.

"Good girl. Now why don't you two get a cool drink, you've been working hard. I think there's some ice cream in the freezer."

"Great! I love ice cream," Jake said with a little too much enthusiasm as they walked into the kitchen leaving Arthur to take the keys into the office. He sat down at the table while Helen poured a couple of lemonades and took the ice cream out of the freezer.

"So what was all that about?" Helen asked.

"Oh, he, uh, just wanted to fix the mower." He took a long drink of the cold lemonade. "Mmm - great lemonade."

"The spleen widget?" Helen said, her voice slippery with sarcasm.

"Yeah! The spleen widget. Can't be too careful about those."

"Oh yes. And the grommet no doubt."

"Uh...yeah...the, uh, grommet," Jake replied, a little uncertainty creeping into his voice.

At that moment, Arthur walked in.

"Hello, Daddy," Helen sighed. "Is the new owner here?"

"Uh huh," he replied.

"I'd like to take a last look. I'll miss it."

"Before you do, though, I'd like you to take a look at this." He handed her a plain envelope and a small box, three inches square, wrapped in gold paper. Helen took them and looked at him quizzically.

"Open it."

Helen unwrapped the paper and opened the box. Inside were the keys to the red Dart.

"What the...?" she exclaimed, turning to him.

"Now the envelope."

She opened the envelope and took out a plain pale green card with a simple white orchid design on the cover. She opened it and, with Jake leaning over her shoulder, read

_Congratulations on your high school graduation, Honey. Look after the car well and it'll look after you. _

_All my love, _

_Daddy._

She turned, looked at him in stunned silence, then pounced on him and threw her arms around his neck.

**o0o**

"I'm not happy about it, Helen and I'm not going to let you go God knows where alone for a year."

"Daddy, we've been through this a hundred times."

"I know, but that doesn't make me feel any more comfortable about it."

"I'll be fine."

"Mmm. I suppose that's exactly what that young woman who was murdered in Wyoming said."

Helen sighed. "I wondered when you were going to bring that up."

"Your mother's refused point blank you know."

"And you're going to too. I _knew_ this was going to happen."

"Helen, listen to me, please..."

"No Daddy - you listen to me. I didn't want to resort to this but it seems I have no option. I'm eighteen years old and the simple fact of the matter is that you can't stop me. I know you don't trust me and you don't trust Anne and Kyle though God knows you've know Anne long enough..."

"Helen..."

"So if it all comes down to it there's nothing you can say that's going to make any difference. I was hoping that you of all people would stick up for me through this. I have no intention of dropping out - it's not as if I'm taking after Rita for God's sake..."

"Helen..."

"...but I _am_ going to take this year off first. I'm not going to go straight into at least foud more years of study without getting out and seeing something of the world - dammit Daddy I've earned it and there would have been a time when you would have supported me..."

"Helen, will you shut up and listen to me? I _am_ supporting you, damn you, though I'm beginning to wonder if I've made a mistake. What I said was that I wasn't going to let you go alone and I've arranged it so you don't have to! I've asked Jake if he'd go with you and he's agreed!"

Helen stared at her father, her eyes wide. "You've what?"

"I said I've asked Jake to go with you."

"You've asked...Jake...to go with me...?"

"That's what I said."

"And he's...agreed?"

"Yes."

Helen paused. "What the _hell_ gives you the right to ask Jake Morgendorffer..." she asked, exasperated, "...what makes you think that I want him to go with me? How _dare_ you presume to talk to him about that without asking me?"

"But...I thought you liked Jake - you're going to that wedding with him...I thought you'd be pleased."

"I _do_ like him - that's not the point! I'm not a little girl any more, Daddy, you have no right to go behind my back like that! And what the hell was Jake thinking - imagining that he could tell you that he could go and that...that that'd be IT? That I'd just roll over and accept whatever decision you MEN have made on my behalf! It's 1969 Daddy! You might think we're still living in some kind of Regency novel...but do I have to...." Helen reached up under the back of her tie-died t-shirt and fiddled, then under the front, tore her bra off and waved it in his face, the broken shoulder straps dangling, "...burn this in the front yard to show you that times have changed?"

Arthur Barksdale blushed furiously, but controlled himself. "It wasn't like that, Helen. Jake said that he'd be happy...that he'd love to go if you wanted him to, but only on that condition. Besides I..."

"Besides nothing! It's MY decision - not yours, not Mom's, and definitely not Jake's."

Helen threw the ruined bra down on the floor, turned and stormed off, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door to her room behind her. She sat on the bed fuming in anger, furious at the liberty her father had taken, thinking about the nerve of Jake, thinking about...how nice it would be to have Jake along. Not that she was going to let either of them get away with it that easily.

"Have you spoken with your daughter about her harebrained plans?"

Maureen Barksdale stood in front of her husband as he sat sipping a glass of Chivas over ice. "I just saw her _packing_ for heaven's sake!"

Arthur glanced up. "I've spoken to her."

"Well it obviously didn't do any good," Maureen returned, her voice dripping with disdain. "I _told_ you - I'm not having her gallivanting all over heaven knows where by herself."

Helen, who'd come downstairs to pour herself a glass of milk, gently closed the refrigerator door and stood silently, eavesdropping on her parents' conversation.

"She won't be by herself, Maureen."

"Oh of _course_ she won't. She'll be with those...those two dirty hippies! Well thats just as good as alone, Arthur, and I wont have it! You just march yourself up there this very instant and tell her she's not going!"

Helen sighed inwardly and shook her head. Her mother had known Anne since she and Helen used to play together when Helen was four and Anne was six. They'd been inseparable friends, treated as sisters by both their families. Now she was a "dirty hippie".

"I told you," Arthur replied calmly, taking another sip of Chivas. "She's not going to be alone. I made sure of that."

"I _told_ you those two... _things_ are not suitable travelling companions for our little girl. My _God,_ Arthur, what about that girl in Wyoming? She was just a little older than Helen!"

"I know. That frightened me too. So I made sure she'd be safe. The car's in great shape and, that little deer episode notwithstanding, she's a good driver."

_Thank you, Daddy,_ Helen thought.

"Oh, that's _really_ going to keep her safe when she stops for gas or to eat! Some maniac could just _grab_ her, and her company will probably be too busy hugging flowers or whatever it is they do...or on some kind of...drugs..."

"For goodness sakes, Maureen, I hardly think Anne would let anything happen to Helen. And that friend of hers, Wolf? Hyena? He seemed like a very polite young man. Besides, Helen won't be alone. I found someone to go with her."

There was a pregnant pause.

"You _what_?"

"I had a talk with Jake this afternoon, and told him about our worries for Helen's safety. He agreed to travel with her. to keep an eye on her."

Helen railed again. Her father was so...so..._paternalistic_!

There was another pause.

"Oh. He _did_, did he? And just what is _he_ expecting out of the deal hmm?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply but didn't get the chance. "No - don't tell me! He thinks he can get Helen off by herself and...no! I won't have it!"

Helen stifled a giggle. Jake? If...no, she admitted, it was probably when, it happened, it'd be Helen doing the instigating. Poor Jake.

Arthur calmly put the whiskey down on the smoker's stand beside him, and looked up into his wife's eyes.

"Maureen - do you remember what you used to call Helen when she was tiny?"

A little of the anger drained from Maureen's face and her mouth turned up just a little at the ends. "Yes."

"What was it?"

"I used to call her 'my little mule'."

"Do you remember why?"

"Because she was..."

"That's right. And you think she's changed?"

"I..." All the fight drained out of Maureen and she sat down next to Arthur, who put his arm around her.

"Don't you know your own daughter?" he asked gently. "She's going. Nothing you or I can say is going to stop her. Look - I don't _like_ it any more than you do - but I know her. If we stopped her - if we _could_ stop her - she'd hate us and all we'd end up doing is driving her away. The best we can do is to have someone who's already shown that he can look after her go with her." He paused, then continued quietly, speaking to himself as much as to her. "There are worse people in this world than Jake Morgendorffer."

Helen felt a little twinge of guilt about what she was planning, but not a big enough to change her mind.

**o0o**

Helen pulled the car up to where Willy and Jake waited outside the Buxton Ridge gates. Willy walked around to the driver's side and leaned in the window as Jake got in on the passenger side.

"Hey, Helen," said Willy, leaning in the window.

Hi, Willy. Congratulations." She said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Whoa - I'll have t' get married more regular!"

Helen laughed. "Willy, you charmer. No wonder Hilda fell for you."

"Jake tells me you're comin' to the wedding."

"I'm looking forward to it. But I admit it was all a bit sudden," Helen replied, sighing.

"Well it's gonna be great to have you there, Helen. Ma's really lookin' forward to meetin' you at the graduation. You gonna come back on the train with us?"

"We haven't really worked it out yet - I guess so. We really didn't have a chance to talk about details." She looked across at Jake, the expression on her face indecipherable.

"We'll work it out today I guess," Jake said.

"I'm real sorry about the prom, Helen."

"I don't mind. The more I think about it the more think I would have been miserable anyway - making small talk with people I don't care about, listening to speeches from those damn reactionaries. I'm glad we didn't make it."

"Come on, we better go," Jake said. "Say hi to Hilda, Willy,"

"Yeah man, I will. Thanks."

Helen started the car and drove off as Willy held up a hand to wave and watched them drive away. Poor Jake, nothing was ever easy. It was as if someone had stuck a prickly burr up his tailpipe when he was a kid. _Well, yeah - I guess that's what ol' Mad Dog did to him_ _alright, _he thought, turning uncomfortably towards town and hoping that neither Helen nor Jake had noticed_. Damn I wish she'd wear a bra._

_It begins,_ thought Helen as they drove off.

"So," said Jake, "how do you think we ought to...you know...approach it?"

"I've been thinking about it," Helen replied as the countryside slipped past them. The sensation of driving her own car was exhilarating. It was the same care she'd been driving for a year, but the simple fact of knowing it was hers was incredibly liberating. It was almost a shame that she had to do what she had to do, but if she didn't do it now neither Jake nor her father would learn. And they were going to learn alright.

"You know, I think the best thing would be for you to tell them."

"Me?" Jake asked, in a tone that spoke of shock and fear. "Me?"

"Well, yes - you're not afraid are you?"

Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. "No." F_unny, _he thought, being reminded of how his voice had sounded when it broke.

The rest of the trip passed in silence.

Helen drove into the driveway and parked behind her father's new car. The garage door was open and she could see Arthur and Amy moving about inside. She glanced across at Jake and said cheerily "No time like the present I guess." Flinging the door open without giving him time to react, she leaped out and trotted over to speak to Arthur while Jake climbed out warily.

"Come on," she said, taking the nervous Jake by the elbow and leading him inside. "Daddy's coming. Let's find Mom and get this over with."

Jake glanced back over his shoulder as Helen fought with herself, almost ashamed of what she was doing. But it had to be done. She hadn't yet told Jake about her mother's explosive opposition to the twelve-month trip with Willow and Coyote; Jake didn't know that Helen knew about her father's scheme to have him go with her; and her mother didn't know yet that they were planning to leave for Willy and Hilda's wedding the day after Jake's graduation. Throwing Jake into the mix was simply lighting the fuse. Now all she had to do was to stand back and enjoy the fireworks.

She led Jake into the living room and pushed him down onto the sofa. "Wait there," she said. "I'll go and find Mom," and she hurried out of the room as Arthur came in wiping his hands on a cloth. Jake leaped up off the seat.

"Jake? What's all this about?"

"About?" Jake squeaked? "I guess, um, that is..."

At that moment Helen led her mother in. "Mom, Dad, Jake has something to tell you," she said, letting all the possibilities of the statement hang in the air like anvils. Helen sat down and looked from face to face, revelling in the range of emotions on display, trying to identify them all as they flashed across three sets of countenances, and trying to look innocent.

Jake turned cherry red as the pause's pregnancy passed its term. "I...well...that is...my friend, Willy, has this girlfriend...well, I mean she isn't his girlfriend, she's his fiancée, and they're getting married, see, and I was thinking...that is we were thinking...I mean Helen and I..."

"Most assuredly not!" interjected Maureen, horrified at the thought that Helen would even consider getting married at her age.

"Now wait a minute, Maureen," interjected Arthur, heading off another salvo from Maureen about Helen's year off.

"I will _not_ wait a minute," Maureen said angrily. "Of all the cockamamie ideas..."

"It's actually a very good idea..." Arthur said, "particularly since Jake's accepted..."

"Jake's _accepted_?" Maureen said.

Jake's eyes flicked back and fort between them, trying in vain to follow the thread of the conversation and waiting for a chance to get a word in without being rude, while Helen sat back with a faint smile on her face.

"Well, yes, although I admit that I did rather hold a shotgun to his head, but I'm sure that he would have done the right thing anyway..."

"I KNEW it!" came Amy's voice from her hiding place behind the curtain. Everyone turned to her as she threw the curtain aside and glared at Jake. "You IDIOTS!" She stared at Helen. "I really expected more from you!_ Now_ who have I got to look up to?" She spun round to point at Rita who was leaning against the kitchen door, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Her? For God's sake!" And, saying that, she stormed out of the room.

"Well well," sneered Rita from the kitchen doorway.

Jake, beginning to get some idea of where this was going, felt a rising sense of panic as Maureen turned to him with venom in her eyes.

"What the HELL is everyone talking about?" roared Arthur.

Maureen turned to him and unleashed her fury. "TALKING about? I'll tell you what everyone's TALKING about, Arthur Barksdale! Everyone's talking about the fact that this..." she threw an eyeful of daggers at Jake "...young STUD has managed to get our daughter pregnant and YOU'VE convinced them that they should get married - at EIGHTEEN for God's sake - AND YOU THINK IT'S A GOOD IDEA!!!!"

Arthur's jaw dropped. Jake's knees collapsed and he fell backwards onto the couch, gripped with an overpowering sense of _deja vu_ and impending loss of bodily control. Amy reappeared next to Rita at the kitchen door.

"Pregnant?" Arthur said, incredulous. "Who said she was pregnant? I was talking about Jake going with her on her sabbatical."

"I...I was talking about Helen coming with me to Willy and Hilda's wedding next week," squeaked Jake.

All eyes turned to Helen, who sat back in the chair with her legs crossed and her arms spread wide, the picture of relaxation.

She stood up with theatrical slowness and looked around at the five sets of eyes that were glued on her.

"You're all so ready to judge," she said, looking at Amy and Rita. "...to jump to conclusions," looking at her mother, "...to make decisions on my behalf," her eyes brushing her father and Jake. "And not one of you was ready to give me the benefit of the doubt, to wait until you heard my side of the story, or to ask me what I thought. And this is what happens."

Only Maureen had the grace to blush.

"Well now it's my turn, and you'd better damn well listen, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm eighteen. I'm not pregnant. I've graduated from high school and I'm going to spend a year travelling around the country with my friends before I go to college." She walked over to Jake and sat down next to him, everyone's eyes following her. "I wasn't going alone, but Daddy decided that I needed someone to look after me and for some unknown reason he decided that Jake Morgendorffer was the person to do it. No 'by your leave', no 'what do you think, Helen?'"

Arthur and Jake added their blushes to Maureen's.

"If anyone's blameless in this it's Jake. He's been a pawn."

"Pawn?" squeaked Jake.

"But he STILL should have told me!" she said, staring at Jake with a look that made him sink several inches lower into the couch. "I know you only did out of concern for me. Daddy," Helen continued "but if you EVER decide what I'm going to do or who I'm going to do it with, without consulting me, then all I can say is look out."

"And you," she said, turning to Jake. "it's a good thing for you that I like you."

"It is?" he choked.

"Yes. Because if I didn't I'd have reached down your throat and torn your lungs out."

"Eep!" Jake squeaked.

"As it is, I kind of like the idea of you coming with me. Besides, it solves a lot of problems."

With the tiny piece of rational mind remaining, Jake recognised the truth in what she said as she turned back to her parents.

"Mom, Jake's just told you that his best friend Willy is getting married on Saturday. Jake's going to be Willy's Best Man and he's asked me to be his partner. I've accepted. We leave on Thursday after Jake graduates."

"But..." Maureen started.

"But _nothing_!" Helen growled. She stood and walked over to where Amy stood beside Rita, and squatted down in front of her, Taking Amy's hands in hers.

"And you, Squirt," she said, looking Amy straight in the eye. "Don't look up to me. For God's sake don't look up to her!" she said, glancing at Rita, who scowled. "You want someone to look up to?"

"Well..." Amy started.

"Look up to yourself. Be the sort of person you think you should be. Be worthy of your own admiration."

Amy smiled, getting one back in return.

Helen stood up to face Rita. "And you?" she said, letting it hang for a minute while she looked Rita up and down. "Good luck."

She turned to Jake. "And now, Jake Morgendorffer, by way of apology you can take me out to lunch."

"I can?" Jake gulped.

"You can." Helen exclaimed, taking him by the hand pulling him up off the couch. They walked out the front door, four Barksdales staring silently after them.

**o0o**

"Jakey! It's so good to see you!"

"Hi Mom. How was the bus ride?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll recover. And I only have to sleep in that motel for one night. But it was worth it! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks Mom. So how have you been?"

"As well as can be expected, Dear, but soon I'll be just fine again! Once my big strong son's home to look after me!"

Jake blushed. "Uh, I have to talk to you about that, Mom."

"Oh yes, Dear! I'm looking forward to talking about it too. I can't wait. It's going to be wonderful to have a man about the house again!"

"Yeah," Jake blushed. "Well come on then, let's get you to the motel and have some dinner."

"You're _what_?" Ruth asked, incredulous.

Jake cut another piece of steak. "I'm going with Helen. We're going to travel around for a year before college. You know - see America."

"But Jakey, I thought you were going to come home! With me!"

He looked up to see a distraught expression on his mother's face. "What? No - I mean you weren't expecting me to come home? I mean when Dad was alive he would have expected me to enlist, and up until this happened you knew I'd be away at college."

"But..."

Jake put down his fork and looked straight at her. "I really don't know what to do with my life, Mom. But I'd like to go and see a little bit...maybe find out where I fit in."

"But Jakey," Ruth said, "you fit in with me."

"I don't think so, Mom. Dad always wanted me to be a perfect cookie cutter soldier, to go to 'Nam like Willy's doing. Well there's no way that was ever gonna happen. I mean I probably could. But I don't want to. It's wrong and I just don't want to!"

Ruth's mind raced. Whatever Jake was going to do it was better to be halfway around the country than halfway around the world being shot at by communists. "But Jakey - you don't..."

"And when Helen's Dad explained how dangerous it'd be for Helen, being by herself and all that, I mean she's got these friends that she'd going with but you heard about that girl in Wyoming? So it was obvious, wasn't it? She needs someone to look after her." He lazily cut another piece of steak while the waitress filled his water glass. "And it all falls into place. I get a year to work out where I want to go, I get to see some of the country, and I get to shake Mad Dog out of my head. I hope."

Ruth, deciding it was time to bring out the big guns, reached into her handbag, pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes.

But Jake continued, oblivious, pushing a fry onto his fork. "Still, I want to get home for a while after the wedding. I really want to search through Mad Dog's stuff to see what I can find about how he intercepted those letters to Amanda. I mean you took them to the mailbox - he must have been really clever to make sure that he got them back without anyone seeing him - and he must have picked up the mail every day and gone through it. I still can't figure out..."

Ruth hastily blew her nose and stuffed the handkerchief back in her handbag. "So tell me, Dear, where are you going on these wonderful travels?"

**o0o**

"New York."

"New York?"

"Yeah."

Amanda stared straight ahead as images, formed in her mind years ago, played out in her imagination. The Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, rooftops with water tanks, crowds, yellow cabs, noise, Central Park. New York. She'd always wanted to go there. The Guggenheim, the Met - damn - the Met! She imagined actually seeing...actually SEEING Leonardo's "Head of the Virgin"...

"Honey...?" Vincent said, hearing her quiet sigh over the rumble of the tires..

She turned to him. "Why New York?"

"Lots of reasons really. I need to talk to some of the magazine and newspaper publishers, you know, line up some work. It always helps if the photographic editors can put a face to the name. And there's some heavy stuff going down that I want to record." He paused. "But the most important thing is...when I saw how you were looking at those paintings I thought you might like to, you know, check out the art museums." He turned and smiled at her, seeing her stare back at him. "We already let the apartment go, and besides Willow and Coyote expected to be travelling most of the summer."

Amanda cradled her growing stomach in her arms. "I guess I was kind of hoping that this one would be born at..." She paused.

"What?" Vincent asked, after a pause to let her continue.

"I was about to say 'at home'," Amanda said quietly, as if she she was speaking to herself.. "I hadn't realised that I'd been thinking of San Francisco as 'home'."

Vincent looked across and put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against his shoulder. "It's funny," he said. "I hadn't thought of it like that until we went home and - shit!"

She sat up and looked at him.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" he said. "Until we went there I'd been thinking of Mom and Dad's place as 'home', so I didn't see San Francisco like that." He glanced at her as a deep sadness descended on him. "You'd already left _your_ home. You needed a new one. And I didn't understand..."

Amanda leaned back onto his shoulder. "It's okay."

Vincent put his arm back around her and squeezed.

She kissed him on the cheek then whispered in his ear softly, "I'd love to see New York."

**o0o**

"Where do we go, Dear?" Ruth asked as Jake opened the taxi door.

"Over here, Mom, they've set up seats around the parade ground. I want to see if we can find Willy and his Mom - I'd like you to met them."

"Oh yes, your friend from the country. Isn't it good of Buxton Ridge let people from all kinds of backgrounds...as long as they're the right type of course."

Jake bit his tongue and led the way to the bleachers, looking around until he spotted Willy waving to him. "There's Willy," he said, waving back. He led Ruth around the parade ground to where Willy and his mother were seated. "Willy, Mrs Johanssen, this is my Mom."

"Real pleased to meet ya, Mrs Morgendorffer," said Willy, "but we're gonna have to skedaddle, Jakey. Please don't think we're bein' rude, M'a'm, but the parade's about t' start."

"Oh - yeah! Sorry Mom, Mrs Johanssen, we'll see you after the parade," Jake said, and they two of them ran off.

"So," said Ruth, turning to Mrs Johanssen, "you're the one who can't cook."

"Uh, well, I guess not everyone can be good at things," Mrs Johanssen said, smiling pleasantly. "I'm very pleased to meet you Mrs Morgendorffer."

"Your son - Billy, is it?"

"Willy."

Yes. Well. Billy's a very lucky boy."

"Thank you - I think so too. But I didn't realise that you'd met Hil..."

"Yes - my Jakey's always been very particular about who he makes friends with. He has very refined tastes."

"I've only had the pleasure for a few minutes. I'm looking forward to getting to know him."

"Of course. I don't suppose that you have many opportunities for polite conversation, living so far away from civilised society. Still, I'm sure Jakey can put up with roughing it for a few days. He's a very adaptable boy."

"Well, we'll sure do everything we can t' make him feel at home. Ever since my husband died..."

"Of course Jake's father was a war hero." Ruth reached into her handbag and took out a handkerchief. "He would have been so proud to see Jake here today." She dabbed at her eyes. "He was selfless to the end - he left us a great deal of money so we'll never want for anything."

"He must have been a wonderful person," Mrs Johanssen said, sympathetically.

"Oh, he was. Jakey idolised him. Jakey wanted so much to join the Army after he graduated, but Michael wouldn't hear of it. We'd already lost one son, you know."

"I didn't know - I'm so sorry."

"'Now Jake,' he used to say, 'you know I'd be proud to see you follow in my footsteps, but you have to look after your Mother when I'm gone'. He was so selfless." She dabbed at her eyes again. "Of course Jakey is such a good boy. He'd never do anything to upset me. But I'm afraid he's fallen into the clutches of a - well - I can only say that she must be some kind of strumpet to have led him astray like this. She's taking him off on some kind of terrible expedition after he's done his duty to your Billy. Of course I wanted to stop him, but I'm far too sensible to do that."

"I can see that," said Mrs Johanssen.

"No, he has to learn the error of his ways by himself. I'm sure that he'll come back home in a few weeks, his tail between his legs, realising that his mother was right, as always."

A bugle sounded behind the stands and the sound of drums heralded the start of the graduation parade.

"I think it's starting. Why don't we sit down?" Mrs Johanssen said.

To the strains of John Philip Sousa's "Under the Double Eagle" the graduating class marched out onto the parade ground in tight formation, followed by the Juniors, the Sophomores and the Freshmen, all showing the results of weeks of practice and hours of spit and polish. Corporal Ellenbogen took the salute and the cadets formed ranks, the graduating class in front of the dais. As the last drumbeat sounded the cadets, in tight formation, came to a halt in their assigned positions standing at attention, eyes front.

Corporal Ellenbogen finished the salute and, ordering the cadets to stand at ease, spoke.

"Distinguished guests, parents, graduating class of 1969, cadets, it is with great pride that I..."

"You know my husband saved his life during the war!" Ruth said.

Mrs Johanssen nodded politely, straining to hear.

"If it hadn't been for my Michael, risking life and limb under enemy fire, Corporal Ellenbogen would never have lived to start Buxton Ridge! Of course he insisted that Jake attend. It was the least he could do of course"

"...enemies of freedom are poised on the teeming shores of South East Asia ready to take any chance we offer them to..."

"He was overcome at Michael's funeral. He delivered the eulogy you know - it was very moving. The look of pride on Jakey's face when Corporal Ellenbogen presented him with the flag that draped Michael's coffin brought tears to my eyes."

"...demands of its young people, as great nations always have, their sacrifice, their courage, and their blood..."

"I know that flag's going to be his most treasured possession."

Mrs Johanssen turned to stare at Ruth, a momentary flash of stunned suprise on her face, before she quickly turned back to the parade.

"...far more serious that the communist threat. Disrespect for our leaders, disrespect for our heroic efforts to rid the world of the scourge of communism, disrespect for our traditions, and disrespect for the flag of the United States of America..."

Mrs Johanssen tried as hard as she could to divide her attention between the speech and Ruth's continual chatter, catching snatches of both.

"...great pleasure that I call upon Mayor Ruttheimer and his lovely wife to present Buxton Ridge's highest honour. This award is not granted to the most outstanding academic achiever, nor to the greatest athlete, but to the graduating cadet who most embodies the spirit of Buxton Ridge Military Academy - a spirit of fairness, of self-discipline, and, most importantly, a commitment to the United States of America."

"He must be talking about my Jakey!" Ruth said, demonstrating that she'd at least been aware that something had been going on and, for the first time since the ceremony had started, stopped chattering.

Mayor Ruttheimer took to the podium, his stately and smiling wife by his side.

"Thank you Corporal Ellenbogen, for the honour of presenting this prestigious award to one of these fine young men," he said, pausing to look over the faces of the graduating class. "As we look out at you today, my wife and I know that, as you grow up to become the leaders of our country we can rest assured that America's future is in capable hands. The education you have received here at Buxton Ridge has given now a solid grounding in the values that have made America what it is today. And I know that those traditions - self-reliance, freedom, faith, respect for the American way of life, respect for authority, and, above all, the respect of the community of nations, will only be enhanced under your future leadership. So without further ado, it is with great pleasure that I present this award to Cadet Willy Johanssen."

A cheer rose from the cadets. After a couple of seconds a bewildered-looking cadet broke from the ranks and made his way to the dais.

"Who?" muttered Ruth, turning to see a look of shock on the face of Mrs Johanssen.

The crowd rose and the cadets left the parade ground to mingle with their families as Willy and Jake came running over. Willy and his mother embraced wordlessly, the joy on their faces more eloquent than words. Jake stared, feeling happy for Whilly and his Mom and just a small twinge of envy at the depth of love feeling between them. A shrill burst of feedback came from the public address system followed by Corporal Ellenbogen's announcement that graduating cadets were to assemble for photographs in the Senior Mess.

"We'll be back in a minute, Mom," said Willy and the two of them ran off again.

"Well," said Ruth, turning to Mrs Johanssen. "Since Corporal Ellenbogen knew that Michael had made such good provision for Jakey I'm sure he felt that a little charity would be in order. You must be pleased."

Before Mrs Johannsen could respond, a voice behind them said "You must be Mrs Morgendorffer, and Mrs Johanssen."

They both turned to see a young woman, her shoulder-length brown hair tied high in a ponytail with a brown velvet tie, and wearing a light floral dress which blew out behind her in the gentle breeze. "I'm Helen Barksdale. I've been sitting over there..." she pointed at the seats across the other side of the parade ground. "I saw Jake and Willy run over to you before they left." She turned to Mrs Johanssen. "You must be very proud, Mrs Johanssen. Willy's a wonderful person - Jake never stops talking about him - I'm very happy for you." Without any hesitation Helen embraced Mrs Johanssen, who eagerly returned her affectionate hug.

Ruth watched, her scowl growing in ferocity and dimming only slightly as Helen turned to her.

"So, you're Helen," said Ruth coldly. "I must say that I expected someone much prettier from Jake's descriptions of you."

Helen and Mrs Johanssen both stifled a gasp. Helen, pausing, resisted the urge to say _and I see you've left your broomstick back at the motel_ but instead settled for "And Jake's told me a lot about you, too, Mrs Morgendorffer."

"Oh, Helen, look!" said Mrs Johanssen, "There's my future daughter-in-law. I need to introduce you to her!" Turning to Ruth, she said "Why don't you wait here for the boys to come back and you can tell them where we are?" Without waiting for a reply she took Helen by the arm and led her quickly down the steps and out onto the parade ground where Hilda was chatting to some of her friends' leaving Ruth to stare after them with ill-concealed disapproval.

"Uh, Mrs Johanssen, I've met Hilda before. We were sitting together before I came over to you," Helen said when they were clear of the seats.

"I know, Dear," the older woman replied, squeezing her arm affectionately, "but I fear Jake's poor Ma's still a might overwrought at the death of her dear husband. I thought you might prefer to get away - I'm sure she didn't mean to be rude to you." She stopped and looked at Helen. "You're beautiful, sweetheart. Jake's a very lucky boy."

Helen blushed, instantly taking a liking to Willy's mother in direct proportion the the dislike she'd taken to Jake's, and they walked across to where Hilda was standing and waving at them.

**o0o**

Ruth wiped her eyes as Jake picked up her suitcase and carried it onto the train. "Look after yourself, Mom. I'll write every week," Jake said, hugging his mother.

"Now Jakey, don't you forget - if things go wrong your Mother's always at home waiting for you."

"I know, Mom. Thanks," he said and kissing her on the cheek he walked back onto the platform and stood beside the window, waving as the train left.

People who'd come to farewell friends and relations drifted away leaving Jake alone to watch the train grow smaller as the clack and rumble of steel on steel faded into the stillness of a summer's morning. Willy and his mother had left an hour earlier, Hilda and her parents would follow the next day. The nightmare of Buxton Ridge was over. Amanda was a constant dull ache that, for the rest of Jake's life, would flare unpredictably into self-inflicted punishment for crimes against love. But now, Jake Morgendorffer, eighteen, stood alone on a train station in the middle of 1969 feeling a terrible mix of uncertainty, fear, and elation. In front of him the silver rails stretched ahead into the shimmering distance. He turned and walked out to where the future waited in a red Dodge Dart, its engine running, eager to be on the road.

**o0o ****o0o**

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: Martin J Pollard, Steven Galloway, Kara Wild, Eric Hamme (aka gearhead), Ahmygoddess1953. No thanks is enough, guys.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	12. I Will

All My Children 

by Thea Zara and Deref 

Chapter 12: I Will

**o0o o0o**

"Jakey! Helen! Man - it's so good to see ya!"

Willy's teeth threatened to burst out of his mouth as he opened the car door for Helen and helped her out.

"It's only been a day, man," grinned Jake.

"Ain't the point, Jakey. I mean it's great to see here - at home!"

Helen hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "It's wonderful to be here, Willy. I didn't really get a chance to congratulate you after the graduation."

Willy blushed though Helen was dressed modestly. "I still figure there was some kind'a mistake about that."

"Yeah, me too," said Jake. "I mean what with that business with Ellenbogen's shoes..."

Willy and Jake looked at each other and four years of shared experience released itself in a burst of laughter that fed off itself until it became a hysterical catharsis. They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks, slapping each other on the back, pausing briefly, and starting again until they leaned, exhausted, against the car.

Helen watched, bemused, but half-understanding what was happening. "Yeah," she said dryly. "I can see that happening halfway through the ceremony."

"Oh man," gasped Willy. "I dunno what that was about, but it felt good."

Jake, clutching his sides, just looked up at him and nodded.

"But listen - this is important," said Willy, pulling himself together. "Ma's doin' all the cookin'. Now I'd be obliged if you'd help me out.. I didn't have the heart t' ask her not to, and I'm real worried. I mean no-one's gonna eat the food, and I dunno what to do - it'd break her heart, I'm sure."

Helen remembered the quiet dignity with which Willy's mother had responded to Ruth's rudeness "Willy," she said, "if I have to eat all your mother's food by myself, I'm going to see that there's nothing left."

Willy stared at Helen. "Uh, Jake's told y' about Ma's cooking, right?"

"Well, he mentioned it, sure. But it can't be all that bad."

"I won't lie to y', Helen," said Willy, "and I'm real grateful to y' for wantin' t' help, but I can't ask that of ya. I thought maybe we could work out some way of...y' know...disposin' of it real careful like, so Ma thinks that it all got et."

"We'll think of something, man," said Jake. "Now come on - let's get inside."

Willy led them from where the car was parked beside a classic red barn, around to the front of a rambling country farmhouse. A long central area was flanked on either side by porches that extended to the front and, between them, a country garden planted with hollyhocks, forget-me-nots, buttercups and snapdragons lay beneath two ancient and gnarled magnolias. A stone path, its gentle curve showing that whoever had laid it had well understood that curves are more interesting than straight lines, led up to the front porch with wicker chairs scattered about and an overhanging wisteria that shaded it from the southerly sun. Willy opened the screen door and looked back to see Jake and Helen walking slowly, taking it all in.

"Willy," Helen sighed as she climbed the steps, "it's gorgeous. You're so lucky."

Willy looked puzzled. "You think so? It's just home t' me - where I grew up. I dunno that I'm so lucky - maybe other folks are just unlucky."

He held the door open and Helen and Jake walked in. Slowly their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the old house and they found themselves in a high-ceilinged room where comfortable old-fashioned furniture was around a deep red and cream Axminster rug. Helen stopped and looked around, absorbing the sense of simple elegance.

"Ma, they're here!" Willy called, startling Helen out of her thoughts.

"Well bring 'em through, boy."

Willy led them through into a bright country kitchen where his mother stood at an enormous scrubbed pine table full of bowls, pans, chopping boards, knives, vegetables, and all the accoutrements of a small restaurant kitchen. Pots steamed on every burner of the gas stove behind her and, beside it, a fuel stove, probably part of the original kitchen and perfectly maintained, was pumping heat out into the room. She looked up and beamed at them, wiping the sweat from her brow with a forearm covered in flour. "Jake! Helen! Welcome! And look at me, I ain't in any fit state to welcome guests!" She wiped the flour off her hands and arms on her apron and strode over to Jake, enveloping him in a welcoming hug. 

"It's great to be here, Mrs Johanssen," Jake said, returning the hug.

She turned and hugged Helen then stood back to look at her, smiling and holding her hands. "I swear you get prettier every time I see you, girl," she said.

"I love your house, Mrs Johanssen," Helen exclaimed, looking around at the kitchen.

"Well thank-you, sweetheart. Now, I reckon it's time we relaxed on the formalities. How about we drop the 'Mrs Johanssen'?"

"Uh, sure," said Jake. "So what...?"

"M' name's Mandy," she said, and turned to Willy. "Land sakes, boy, I swear I ain't taught you any manners at all. What's wrong with you? Offer our guests some tea and cake - they must be hungry and thirsty after their long drive."

"Yes'm," Willy smiled. "Maybe they'd prefer somethin' cool."

"Well," started Jake...

"Tea!" Helen said enthusiastically. "I'd love tea!"

"Yeah," Jake added, taking Helen's lead. "Tea'd be nice."

"Suit yerselves," said Willy, taking a large kettle down from a shelf and filling it with water.

"You youngsters won't mind if I keep workin' here will you?" Mandy asked. "It's just folks are always hungry after a wedding and I've still got a mess o' food t' make."

Jake winced inwardly. "Sure, Mrs...Mandy - don't mind us."

Helen looked round at the pies and pastries that were cooling on the bench, smelling rich and exotic, their golden crusts looking (Helen imagined) as if they'd come out of a French patisserie. "Can I help?" she asked.

"Thank you, sweetie" Mandy smiled as she cracked eggs into a bowl. "No, You have a cup of tea and somethin' t' eat, then get Willy to show you around. I expect Peter and Millie - that's my other son and his wife - 'll be here any time. Helen, I've got you and Hilda stayin' down the road with my sister, Patsy. I hope that's okay."

"Sure, that's great," Helen answered, relieved that a question that had been nagging her had been settled early and easily.

Willy took a cobalt-blue china teapot down off the shelf, poured some boiling water into it from the kettle, swirled it round and tipped out the water into the sink as Helen watched. He put the teapot down on the table and opened a printed tinplate canister. He took three teaspoons of black tea, and carefully emptied them into the teapot, which he took over to the stove where the kettle was boiling, carefully tipped the bubbling water into the pot, put the lid on, and turned the flame under the kettle off.

"Sure y' wouldn't like somethin' cold?" he asked, as he put the kettle, a milk jug, and three small plates, two teacups and two saucers, and a silver sugar bowl onto an ornate old wicker tray.

Helen pictured English teatimes she'd read about in P.G. Wodehouse stories that she'd found in the school library last summer. "No," she said quietly, watching entranced as Willy poured some milk into the jug and deftly sliced a lemon onto one of the plates.

"We'll take it into the parlour, Ma," said Willy, opening the refrigerator and helping himself to a Dr Pepper.

"Don't you make a mess, now," Mandy said. "Oh, Helen, take that teacake," she added, nodding a large pine dresser where at a pale golden cake lightly dusted with confectioner's sugar, crossed by undusted diagonal stripes which made diamond patterns of white, rested on a blue willow pattern plate.

Willy grimaced as Helen picked up the cake, and they walked back from the heat of the kitchen into the cool, dark room they'd passed through on their way in.

"You folks make y'selves at home," said Willy, putting the tray down on a low table as Helen and Jake sat down in the old couch, sinking into the soft cushions. He looked around toward the kitchen, and said quietly "I'm real sorry about this. Ma's got some strange ideas about stuff, but I'm real obliged to y' both for not makin' fun of her."

Helen glanced at Jake then turned back to watch Willy as he set out the plates and put the cups on the saucers. He turned the teapot round three times by its handle and looked up at Helen. "Milk or lemon?"

"Milk, please," she answered immediately, thinking about how Jeeves would have prepared it for Bertie Wooster.

Willy poured the tea into the teacup and added a splash of milk from the jug. "Jakey?" he asked.

"Uh, same...I guess," Jake replied, bemused at the formality of the ceremony. Ruth drank tea sometimes, but it was kept in little paper bags that she dangled in a cup and he'd always assumed that that was how tea was made. Watching Willy's easy familiarity with something so strangely exotic made Jake feel slightly odd, seeing a side of Willy that Buxton Ridge had never revealed.

Willy poured a cup for Jake and put one in front of each of them. "Help y'selves to sugar," he said, indicating the sugar bowl.

Under Jake's watchful gaze Helen picked up a pair of small silver tongs and gently lowered a cube of sugar into her cup, stirred, and passed the bowl to Jake who copied her. Willy, meanwhile, walked over to a dresser, opened a door, and took out a glass and a bottle opener. He settled back into an overstuffed armchair and looked back to the kitchen again. "Ma don't like me drinkin' out of the bottle," he said, pouring the drink out into the glass and taking a deep drink. "Never did understand what Ma saw in tea."

Helen picked up the cup, took a sip, and sighed. "Willy, this is delicious! Do you always make tea like this?"

"Ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Like I said, Ma's got some strange ways, but Pa always said that we should respect the way she liked to do stuff. Folks think we're pretty strange I guess, but I don't mind as long as it makes Ma happy."

He put the glass down, picked up a knife, and cut three slices of cake which he put on the plates he'd brought from the kitchen..

"That looks wonderful," said Helen.

Willy looked up at her. "Yeah, it does, don't it? Pa always used t' say that if Ma's food ate like it looked we'd o' been livin' high on the hog. But there ya go." He sighed. "We got pretty darn good at makin' her believe that we liked it too," he said, nodding to the plates with crumbs and sugar on them as he picked up the slices of cake and wrapped them in a napkin. "We'll get rid o' these outside somewhere away from the chicken coop - wouldn't want 'em eatin' it."

"So listen, man," Jake said, "Where are you and Hilda going on your honeymoon?"

Willy grinned. "Up t' the back o' the field out back."

Helen chuckled at the image that conjured up.

"There's an old cottage up there that Ma's been fixin' up. It's small, but it's real pretty."

"You're not going away then?" Helen asked.

"Can't afford it, besides - we ain't really got time. I gotta be in Fort Benning fer basic trainin' in a week. I figure that we'll just save up an' have a real honeymoon when I get some leave. Hilda's gonna live in the cottage, Pete an' Millie'll live here with Ma. We won't have nothin' t' spend my pay on really, so we'll be able t' go somewhere real nice when I get m' first leave."

"But you only have a week..." Helen said. "That's such a shame."

"Yeah." Willy looked a little downcast. "Pa used 't say that it's easy t' be wise after the event." He looked sadly at Helen. "I was real keen 't get signed up, y' know - excited. I figured I'd have some time, I didn't expect it'd all happen so fast. Hilda was a might upset about it, but she understands. She's real good like that."

"Will you show us the cottage?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, sure. We'll walk up there later this afternoon."

They finished their tea and Willy took the things back to the kitchen. As he came back into the parlour the door opened and a taller, older version of Willy stepped into the room followed by a very pregnant woman. 

"Pete! Millie!" Willy said, hurrying to the door as Jake and Helen stood up.

Willy hugged them both and turned to Jake. "Pete, this is Jake - you know, m' buddy from Buxton Ridge! Jake, this is my brother, Pete."

"Hi Jake," said Peter, putting a large suitcase down on the floor.

"And this is Pete's wife Millie."

"How d'you do, Jake," Millie smiled. "Willy's told us so much about you!" She turned to Helen. "And you must be Amanda!"

**o0o**

Jake shook his head violently from side to side, his mouth closed tightly.

Helen had laughed off Willy's embarrassed apology for the case of mistaken identity but Jake had looked very uncomfortable, so she'd taken him by the arm and said "Why don't you guys catch up? I'm sore from the trip - I'd like to take a stroll around outside," and without waiting for an answer she'd led him out the door as she heard Peter and Millie answer Mandy's welcoming shout from the kitchen, and they'd walked out into the bright summer afternoon.

Helen looked looked up at Jake as they walked slowly down the stone path to the gate and she linked her arm with his as they strolled around the house, not speaking. She waved and smiled at Mandy and Peter as they passed the kitchen window. "Oh, wow," she said, hoping to distract him from whatever was bothering him, "I've never been in a real barn! Come on, let's go look!" She'd let go and run towards the barn, stopping in the half-open doorway and looking back at Jake to see him standing, rooted to the spot, staring at the barn. 

She walked back to him.

"Jake? What's wrong?"

He shook his head again. "I don't want to go into the barn," he said quietly.

Helen looked from eye to eye, trying to work out what was going on, adding all the pieces together. So far she'd found two things that could affect Jake like this. "It's Amanda, isn't it?" she asked.

Jake kept staring at the barn. A warm breeze blew across the fields and ruffled his hair.

"You've never really told me about her," Helen said quietly.

Jake tore his gaze away from the barn and looked at Helen. She had the same look in her eyes that she'd had on the night of the prom and he understood that it hadn't been the dress or the hair that had made her look so beautiful. She took his hand and they walked aimlessly around the barn, stopping to sit on a bench in the shade on the side away from the house, staring out across the copper fields.

"They had these dances three times a year, with the Catholic girls' school across town," he said quietly, staring off into he distance. "They were a drag, always the same. But Willy kept saying that one day we'd get lucky..."

Helen listened in silence while Jake told her about the dance, Ellenbogen Junior and the spilled punch, the incident with the rope, the storm, how they'd sheltered in a barn just like this, about finding her letters and what they contained. Helen bit her lip when he told her how he'd left the ring on the hay bale.

Jake was breathing deeply when he finished. For the first time in years Helen felt self-conscious and uncertain of herself as she wondered how much damage had been done to Jake by Mad Dog, by Ellenbogen and by Buxton Ridge; and by Jake himself, by the depth of his belief, though it was so wrong, that he'd betrayed Amanda. And she understood a little of how important Willy, the one person he trusted and confided in, had been to him.

Looking past his eyes she did all she knew how to at that moment. As she kissed him softly and long, Jake felt some of the pain drift away.

Back in the house, Willy took another Dr Pepper from the fridge and turned to the sink to pick up the church key.

"I sure hope your friends weren't bothered by my mistake," Millie said as she sipped a cup of coffee.

Willy smiled as he looked out the window to see Jake and Helen walk slowly out from behind the barn, close together, hand in hand. "I don't reckon they mind at all."

**o0o**

"I'm gonna take Jake and Helen up t' see the cottage, Ma. We'll probably go into town and catch a movie, maybe get a burger or somethin'."

"Oh, I was hopin' we'd all have a nice dinner together..." Mandy said with a note of disappointment in her voice.

"'Sakes, Ma, you got enough t' do without havin' t' worry about us. We'll be back after dinner anyway." Willy said as he hustled Jake and Helen out the door. "I reckon the hardest part about all this is gonna be keepin' you folks and Ma's cookin' apart fer a whole two days."

"Willy I just can't believe your mother's cooking could be all that bad," Helen said as they walked round to the back of the house and along a path that led to a gate in the back fence.

Willy sighed. "I guess there's only one way you're gonna find out, but I ain't takin' no responsibility for the consequences."

Helen smiled nervously.

He led them up over a low rise behind the house and down again, across a footbridge over a small creek, flowing languidly in the summer heat through a cool grove of cottonwoods. The path started uphill again and, as it turned right, a small cottage came into view. It looked to be the same age as the main house. Fresh cream-coloured paint gave it an almost out of place feel, and the small garden in the front yard was starkly formal, divided into small plots by brick pathways, each plot with its own planting of herbs and vegetables. Below the cottage the ground sloped away down to the creek as it curved around the base of the hill, overhung by weeping willows.

They turned to hear Helen laughing gently. "Willy, you're amazing," she said.

"Must be why everyone calls me Amazin' Willy," he deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of Jake. "Yeah - I know, it's real pretty. When Pa was alive we used t' use it fer visitors an' such. We told Hilda's folks they could stay there, but they're real busy with their shop so they gotta get back tomorrow. Ma loves all them stinky plants in the garden an' Pa drew the line at havin' 'em out the back o' the house, so she comes up here every day t' tend 'em." They stopped and stood, taking in the scene. "I figure if Hilda an' me move out once I get a regular postin' Ma'll probably come and live here an' leave the house t' Pete an' Millie."

As they walked up to the house Helen bent down to get a closer look at Mandy's "stinky plants". She recognised some of them - parsley, several kinds of mint. She plucked a small leaf and crushed it between her fingers, smiling. Oregano - her mother grew it. Obviously this was Mandy's herb garden, but "stinky plants" was such a great description that she couldn't help but smile.

Willy opened the door to let them in and Helen turned to admire the view from the wooden porch across the herb garden, down the hill to the creek and across the roof of the main house to the road and hills beyond. She knew that as the sun set the herbs would release their fragrance. Sitting on the porch on a summer's evening would be romantic. Sniffing the fresh herbal smell on her fingers again, she envied Hilda.

**o0o ****o0o**

"Stag party?"

"Of course, little brother - damn - y' gotta have a stag party the night before your wedding, right Jakey?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so..." Jake replied nervously.

"It's traditional. Heck - I had one - everybody has one!" Pete slapped Willy on the back while Mandy, Millie and Helen looked on in wry amusement.

"They had to throw a bucket of cold water over him to get him up in time for the wedding," Millie whispered _sotto voce_ to Helen and Hilda.

"Aw, honey, I was just tired is all," Pete said indignantly. "We didn't get back till nigh on sunup!"

"You know what, boys?" Millie said, "I think it's a great idea!"

Pete, Jake, Willy, Mandy and Helen turned to look at her.

"So good, in fact, that I think us girls need a party of our own. What d'you say, ladies?"

"Sure!" exclaimed Mandy! "We got all the fixin's we need here! We can have us a fine time celebratin' your last night of freedom, honey!"

"Damn right!" added Helen. "Who said the guys get all the fun?"

Hilda just laughed.

**o0o**

Jake stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at a sign proclaiming "Baker's Bar - Live Bands Saturday Night" in red neon. He glanced across at Willy to see that Willy was glancing at him, and they turned and followed Peter inside.

A long pine bar stretched away toward the back of the room, propped up by four customers sitting on pine stools with red vinyl padding, chatting or nursing beers. Along the wall opposite the bar small tables each with four chairs continued the theme. Peter led them to the back of the room where the bar ended and more tables and chairs were scattered in front of a small dance floor leading up to an even smaller stage where a stool and microphone stand waited patiently for someone to use them. A few people lazed around a pool table, the air hazy with cigarette smoke, and a dozen or so others sat at the tables, chatting or watching the pool players, occasionally exclaiming noisily at a particularly good or bad shot.

Peter pulled a chair out from under an empty table, guiding Willy to sit down. Jake followed suit. "Okay boys, so what's it to be?" he asked.

Willy and Jake exchanged glances again.

"Uh, beer I guess," said Willy uncertainly.

"Beer? And you, Jakey, the same?"

"Beer?" he asked, looking up at Peter.

_"Here Jake. Have a beer with your old man!"_

Jake looked down at the glass that his father was holding out to him, pale yellow, bubbles rising slowly to the frothy white foam on top. He knew that twelve year-olds weren't supposed to drink beer, but it couldn't be too different to soda - and besides, it was what 'men' drank - Mad Dog had told him so often enough. Slowly he reached out and took the glass, and raised it to his lips as Mad Dog grinned. The slightly bitter taste was a shock. It wasn't that it was disgusting, though Jake couldn't understand for the life of him why anyone would want to drink it, but it was so different...

"Bah," grunted Mad Dog. "That's no way to drink beer, boy. You drink like a girl! Down it!"

Jake looked down at his father's face. He could do this. If he didn't think too hard about it he could pretend it was Coke, and as long as he drank it fast...

"That's it boy! Maybe there's hope for you yet," Mad Dog grinned as Jake finished the glass. "Here," he said, taking the glass and refilling it, "Have another."

Jake managed to get the second glass down just as the effects of the first started to make themselves felt.

"I don't feel so good," he said, and turned to run to the bathroom, his father's grunt of disapproval echoing in his increasingly muddy mind.

"No, thanks," he said, vividly remembering the minutes he'd spent throwing up into the toilet.

"Okay - what then?" Pete asked. "Or would y' like me to choose for ya?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jake replied.

"This is great, huh, Jakey?" Willy asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. Great." Jake replied, equally uncertainly.

"Here ya go," Pete said, putting a tray down on the table.

Jake looked straight past the drinks on the tray and his stomach rumbled. "Oh boy! Peanuts!" he said, grabbing a handful of the salted morsels and devouring them greedily.

Pete put a beer down in front of Willy, a glass of Coke in front of Jake, and helped himself to the other beer. "Well, here's to your last night 'o freedom, little brother, and your first night o' wedded bliss!" He laughed and raised his glass. Willy and Jake smiled, touched their glasses together with Pete's, and the three of them drank.

"Hey, that's good!" Jake exclaimed. "Cherry Coke?"

"Close, Jakey. Sloe gin and Coke. Good eh?"

"Great," Jake replied, grabbing another handful of peanuts.

**o0o**  
_  
_"If I know Peter, those boys'll be back by ten, unless there's something on at Baker's. He used to spend a lotta time down there before he married you, Millie, but he's never been a drinker. It was the music." Mandy put tray of glasses down on the table and looked around at the others. "So - what's it t' be, ladies? We have t' send you off well, Hilda!"

"Gin and tonic for me please, Mandy!" said Millie enthusiastically.

Helen and Hilda exchanged exactly the same nervous glance that Jake and Willy had exchanged, but Helen was more forthright.

"I've never really had anything alcoholic, Mandy," said Helen. "I mean Dad used to give me a sip of his whiskey, but I hated it."

"Oh - whiskey's not a good thing to start on. It's what they call an acquired taste." Mandy looked at Hilda. "How about I mix you two up one of my famous cocktails?"

"Sure," said Hilda.

"Okay then. You make yourselves comfortable. I'll be right back."

Mandy waltzed into the kitchen and, in a few seconds, the sounds of chopping, stirring, shaking and mixing floated out, mixed with cheerful humming.

"Mandy's full of surprises," said Millie, as Mandy came back into the room carrying a tray with assorted bottles and glasses.

She handed Millie her gin and tonic, the faintest blue tinge reflecting off the floating ice cubes and droplets condensing on the glass and starting to run down the sides. "Now, let's see what we've got here," she said, picking up a jug full of pale orange/yellow liquid with crushed ice floating in it and pouring it into three wine goblets. Passing one each to Helen and Hilda, she took the third herself and raised it in toast. "Hilda, honey, you've made my son a happy boy - man, I should say. And that's made me a happy woman. Here's to many long years of that happiness to both of you."

The raised their glasses and Helen and Hilda took a tentative sip. Hilda's eyes widened. "Chocolate!" she exclaimed.

Mandy laughed. "Chocolate orange frappe. I thought it'd be appropriate, honey. I believe you have a likin' for it. I admit I'm partial m'self."

"It's delicious!" Helen added, taking another sip.

A faint bell sounded from the kitchen. "Ah - food's ready," Mandy said, going back into the kitchen and returning in a minute with a plateful of golden pastry shapes in squares, triangles and rolls. Three small china bowls held strange looking condiments, one thick and pale red with small chunks of red and green...things floating in it, one apparently black, and one thick and brown.

The nervous glance again passed between Helen and Hilda, but Helen had already made up her mind that, regardless of the consequences, she was going to find out what all the fuss was about. She tentatively reached out and chose a triangle, lifted it to her mouth, and took a bite.

**o0o**

"Ah, two Buds and a sloe gin and Coke, please. Do you sell food?"

"Nope," the bartender said as he pulled the beers. "Got chips, peanuts, n' jerky."

"Uh, well, gimme three packets of chips and three packets of peanuts too, please."

The bartender smiled at the thought of all the drinks it'd take to wash down all the salt. "Here y' go, son," he said, handing Jake a tray. "Hungry?"

"Yeah, I've hardly eaten for two days. It's a long story."

"Ah, well. Y' don't wanna drink on an empty stomach, young feller."

"Yeah, thanks," said Jake handing over a ten and taking the change. Passing out the drinks, Jake opened the chips and peanuts and ate hungrily. Talk and laughter flowed easily along with the obligatory ribald jokes about Willy's wedding night. Jake was feeling a pleasant sense of relaxed ease and he started happily on his second drink when a guitar chord from the stage behind him made him turn just in time to see a musician, wearing a tassled suede jacket, strike the second chord of song, and start to sing...

_I pulled in to Nazareth, I was feelin' 'bout half-past dead_

The sweetness of the sound was amazing to Jake who'd never heard a live performance of this kind of music. The closest he'd come was the school brass band. Jake was captivated.

_I was lookin' for a place where I could lay my head._  
_Hey Mister can you tell me where a man might find a bed?  
He just grinned and he shook my hand, and "no" is all he said.  
_  
Jake turned to see Willy and Peter grinning.

_Take a load off Annie,  
Take a load for free,  
Take a load off Annie,  
Aaaaaannnnnnddddd_

The singer held the note and Peter chimed in a third above, adding a luscious harmony. Jake looked back to see the singer grin at Peter.

_You put the load right on me._

"What the...?" he whispered to Willy.

Willy just smiled and put his finger to his lips in the "shush" position.

_I picked up my bag and I went lookin' for a place to hide,  
When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side.  
I said "Hey Carmen, come on let's go downtown."  
She said "I got to go, man, but my friend can stick around."_

This time Peter joined in earlier in the chorus, singing high and clear over the melody. The pool players had stopped and were tapping their toes and smiling as the next verses started.

_Go down Miss Moses, there's nothin' you can say.  
It's just old Luke, an he's waitin' for the judgement day.  
"Hey Luke, my friend, what about young Anna Lee?"  
He said "Do me a favour, boy, stay and keep Anna Lee company."_

Finally the song wound down to the last verse and, though the words didn't really make any sense, the melody was pretty and the sweetness of the delivery turned to honey as he sang quietly.

_Get your cannonball now, to take me down the line,  
My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe that it's time,  
To get back to Miss Annie, don't you know she's the only one,  
She sent me down here with her regards for everyone.  
_  
The chorus started quietly and repeated, building, the two voices blending perfectly. As the last chord rang out the drinkers clapped and cheered. Jake jumped to his feet, clapping louder than anyone, and sat down again as the applause died, staring at Peter with wide eyes.

"Thank you! Peter Johanssen, ladies and gentlemen!" the singer said, indicating Peter, who stood and smiled as the audience clapped and cheered again.

"Pete and Martin used to play in a band," Willy explained. "They played here just about every Saturday night. When Pete got married and went off, Martin went solo." He looked down at Jake's glass. "I'll get us another, huh, Jakey?"

"Yeah, yeah! Far out!" Jake enthused, draining his second sloe gin and Coke. He turned to Peter as Willy got up and Martin started his next number.

"Man - that was incrediblblb...incredidible! Willy never told me you were a musician!"

Peter smiled. "Thanks Jakey. I miss it real bad. It sorta gets inta your blood, y'know? Maybe now that Millie and me are movin' back in with Ma..." He looked wistfully at Martin, who'd started a rendition of Leonard Cohen's_ Suzanne_, his fingers effortlessly drawing lush descending arpeggios out of the spotlight-gleaming bronze strings of the big Martin twelve-string guitar. Jake turned back to listen, transfixed, as Willy arrived with another round of drinks.

_ Suzanne takes you down  
To a place near the river  
You can hear the boats go by  
You can spend the night beside her  
And you know that she's half crazy  
But that's why you want to be there  
And she feeds you tea and oranges  
That come all the way from China  
And just when you mean to tell her  
That you have no love to give her  
Then she gets you on her wavelength  
And lets the river answer  
That you've always been her lover_

The words writhed in the raw places of Jake's alcohol-dulled soul, and he felt tears welling in his eyes as Martin sang...  
_  
And you want to travel with her  
And you want to travel blind  
And you know that she will trust you  
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind._  
_  
_Through the haze, the words burned. And, though Willy was fast enough to distract him from descent into maudlin drunkenness, Jake would never hear that song again without touching Amanda's perfect body with his mind.  
_  
_**o0o**

The next morning five of seven people woke up with headaches.

The previous night, before the boys arrived back home, Helen and Hilda had walked - unsteadily - the half mile to Willy's Aunt Patsy's house, where they'd been welcomed with open arms and wry amusement at their condition. She woke them early and gave them a hearty breakfast, before the three of them drove to pick up Hilda's parents and sister from the airport. Though they were friendly and welcoming to Willy and his family and friends, Helen got the impression that they'd be happy to get away after the wedding.

Jake was still hungry. His stomach rumbled loudly from time to time, and being surrounded by food just made it worse. He hoped that he'd be able to pick something up on the way to town to get the rented tuxedos, and his heart sank when Millie arrived with the clothes before heading off to Patsy's to join in the preparations for Hilda.

Mandy's house was a scene relative calm. Four years of Buxton Ridge had made Willy and Jake expert at ironing shirts and shining shoes so, though they'd given themselves an hour to get ready, it only took ten minutes to have them looking ready for a dress parade. Mandy puttered 'round in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the food. Willy's nervousness started showing when he'd given Jake the ring, a plain gold band, to put in his pocket ready to produce at the appropriate moment.

"Just check that y' got the ring, Jakey," he said every ten minutes, and Jake had to produce it on cue to convince him that it was safe.

A few minutes before they were due to leave Jake walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Mandy was standing at the sink, her back to Jake. As he approached, he noticed her shoulders shake gently, and he slowed, walking up nervously.

"Uh, Mandy...?" he said quietly. "Are you okay?"

She turned to him and smiled through the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jakey. I just wish Paul could o' been here today."

Jake thought back to the way that Willy had spoken about his father. "Willy told me a lot about him. I'm really sorry that I never got the chance to meet him."

Mandy sniffed, and stood back looking at Jake as he took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She accepted gratefully and dried her eyes. "He would have been so happy to see Willy getting married. O' course he saw Pete and Millie's wedding, but Lord, he loved Willy something fierce, Jake. He would have been happy that Willy had a friend like you."

"Well, perhaps he's, you know, perhaps he's looking down and seeing it all," Jake said, embarrassed again at how lame it sounded in his own ears as he took the handkerchief back and put it in his pocket.

"Perhaps he is," she smiled. "Now come on - don't let a silly old woman hold things up. We gotta get to the church before Hilda does or it'll be bad luck!"

Peter drove them the five miles to town where a dozen friends and relatives, dressed in their Sunday best, milled around outside a small white stone church. Jake remembered the hugs and the greetings, the good wishes and the general happiness, but none of the names of the people he was introduced to except for the pastor, The Reverend Walter Entwhistle.

The small group nearly filled the little church. Willy and Jake fidgeted while Reverend Entwhistle joked with them with practiced expertise in calming, or at least distracting, nervous grooms-to-be. Finally Helen and Patsy arrived and walked down the aisle to take their seats next to Mandy. Seconds later a breathless rendition of Mendelssohn's Wedding March threatened to overtax the church's wheezy old harmonium and the wheezy old harmonium player as Hilda, her arm linked in her father's, appeared in the door, framed by the bright light behind them. As they walked slowly down the aisle, Willy and Jake could see Hilda's broad smile behind the small veil that barely covered her face. Hilda's simple tea length white dress and matching pillbox hat lent her something that was almost elegance and Jake, glancing at the beatific expression on Willy's face, shared a little of his friend's joy.

Fate, meanwhile, conspired in an almost playful way to make its presence felt and, as Hilda and her father separated leaving Hilda and her sister Roslynn to stand together, Jake's empty stomach growled loudly, demonstrating a youthful vigour far beyond the powers of the old harmonium. Helen, Mandy and Hilda barely managed to stifle their laughter and Jake, poor Jake, prayed fervently for the ground to open up and swallow him. The rest of the congregation either didn't notice or was far too well-mannered to respond, and the incident passed without further comment. Or it would have if it hadn't continued to provide a running commentary for the rest of the wedding. Jake's prayers, even in the sanctified atmosphere of God's house, went unanswered.

The ceremony moved along without incident, the ring duly materialised from Jake's pocket at the appropriate time, and, as those final monumental words were spoken and Mr and Mrs Johanssen, their eyes full of love for each other, kissed, The Reverend Entwhistle whispered in Jake's ear "The Lord moves in mysterious ways, Jake. Perhaps your stomach is just emulating His example."

Jake took the comment in the spirit with which it was offered and relaxed a little until Hilda, the kiss over, reached deep into the recesses of her simple bouquet of white roses and baby's tears and drew forth, as if miraculously, a Three Musketeers bar which she handed to Jake, whispering "Honey, you need this more than I do."

Only Helen's stifled laughter reached Jake's embarrassed ears before the sweet sound of an expertly played guitar diverted everyone's attention. Peter, who'd made his way with Millie to the front left hand side of the church, started playing the song that Willy and Hilda had asked for, and Millie sang in a clear contralto, as Willy and Hilda walked down the aisle together to the delight and congratulations of the congregation,

_Who knows how long I've loved you  
You know I love you still  
Will I wait a lonely lifetime  
If you want me to--I will. _

_For if I ever saw you  
I didn't catch your name  
But it never really mattered  
I will always feel the same. _

_Love you forever and forever  
Love you with all my heart  
Love you whenever we're together  
Love you when we're apart. _

_ And when at last I find you  
Your song will fill the air  
Sing it loud so I can hear you  
Make it easy to be near you  
For the things you do endear you to me  
Oh, You know I will  
I will._

His embarrassment forgotten, Jake stared at Peter and Millie as Willy and Hilda walked down the aisle and out of the church to he last, sweet strains of the Beatles song and the handshakes and hugs of well-wishers..

**o0o ****o0o**

Clutching a struggling Wind, whose diaper was threatening to desert him, under one arm Amanda reached into the back of the Willys to take the air mattress from Vincent. Carrying both loads and her expanding stomach over to the tent, she dropped the air mattress, pulled up Wind's diaper and put him back in his collapsible playpen where he sat happily dribbling and watching the activity as his mother and father set up camp.

"You know it's going to get harder to do this when you-know-who arrives," she said.

"Then we'd better enjoy it while we can," Vincent remarked, climbing backwards out of the car. "So go chop some wood and fix us up some vittles while I drink beer."

The rubber foot pump missed his head by a scant inch.

Amanda stood and watched him taking the rest of the gear out of the back of the car and putting it down in a neat pile. The warm afternoon sun was starting to dip below the trees and a stream burbled in the distance. A cardinal flapped noisily from one tree to another. _A motel room_, she thought, _would be so much easier_. Her back was starting to ache, but she breathed deeply, taking in the earthy smells, and smiled, that sad expression back momentarily, realising that it _was_ going to be harder from now on. Harder to go where the road took them. Harder to say "hey - that looks nice," and to stop and pitch a tent for the night. Harder to take two children instead of one wherever they felt like going. Harder to say, simply, "New York," and go.

She was going to enjoy it while she could. It might be a long time between drinks. And in two days' time - unless they decided again to detour via somewhere that sounded interesting - they'd be in New York City. Nothing was going to spoil that.

**o0o ****o0o**

Helen chuckled as Jake greedily tore open the Three Musketeers bar, broke it and handed half to her.

"It's okay - like Hilda said, you need it more than me," she said, smiling.

"So how come you're not hungry?" he asked, stuffing half the chocolate bar into his mouth and chewing enthusiastically as his stomach growled at the prospect of being fed.

Helen just smiled as they parked in front of the barn, got out, and joined the others from the church as they walked into Mandy's parlour.

"I'm going to help Mandy and Millie," she said as soon as they got in, leaving Jake to mingle. He walked around aimlessly, smiling and nodding as people he didn't know slapped him on the back and said things like "Great wedding, huh, Jake?", or "Doesn't Hilda look wonderful?" Smile. Nod. Watching Mandy, Helen and Millie carry in plates from the kitchen piled high. He poured himself a Coke and gin and sipped distractedly while Helen put a plate of hot pastry triangles down in front of him and turned to smile up at him as she left to go back to the kitchen for another load. Jake stood, staring at the triangles, the sounds of the room fading into the background as his attention focussed on the golden morsels. Suddenly he felt a presence by his side.

"Don't think about it Jakey."

Jake turned to see Willy looking at him with a worried expression.

"But..."

Willy was whisked away by an elderly woman who wanted a photograph, and he turned back to the plate. Slowly the room came back into focus and Jake noticed something strange.

Helen reappeared at his side and slipped an arm through his. "Well," she said, smiling that odd smile. "Aren't you going to pour me a drink?"

"Uh, oh - yeah..." Jake said distractedly. "What would you like?"

"Oh, I don't know. What's that you've got?"

He looked down at the glass in his hand. "Joke. I mean Coke. Gin. And Coke."

"I'll try that then."

He walked across to the sideboard where Mandy had set out a selection of bottles and poured Helen a glass of the same, guessing the quantities, and adding a couple of ice cubes from a glass ice bucket, all the time glancing back over his shoulder to confirm what he'd noticed.

Helen took the drink and sipped. "Mmm. Not bad. Gin?"

Silence.

"Jake...?

"Oh - uh, yeah - sorry. Sloe gin."

"Why Jake," she said. "you seem distracted."

"What?"

"I said you seem distracted."

Jake turned and stared at her. "The food..."

"Yeeeeeesssss...?"

"They're..."

"They're what?" Helen reached down and picked up a pastry triangle, lifted it to her mouth, and chewed. She closed her eyes and said "Mmmm."

Jake stared.

"How long have you known Willy?" she asked.

"Uh, four years," Jake replied as his gaze flicked between Helen and the plate.

"Isn't it amazing how you can know a person for so long and still not have the faintest idea..."

Jake snatched a triangle from the plate and ate it. His eyes widened even more. "Goddamn!" he breathed, reaching down and picking up a handful while Helen tried, with strictly limited success, to control her laughter. "What the Hell?" he said, turning to her. "You knew? How?"

Helen smirked and took another bite of her own food before she replied. "Well, Willy made such a big deal out of it, I just had to know, you know? So last night I tried some. Good, isn't it?"

"Good? It's glmph..." He swallowed. "It's great! But why doesn't he like it? I mean most of this is nowhere near spicy, and he warned us, me off her cooking for, well, Hell, most of the time I've known him!" Jake eagerly thrust another triangle into his mouth and cast around to see what else was on offer.

"I was wondering that too. Millie saw how I looked when I ate it and she told me what Mandy had told her, after Peter did the same thing to her."

"Hold on," said Jake, stepping over to pick two crispy springs roll off a plate, then coming back and giving one to Helen. "So - what did...oh man..." he took a bite out of the spring roll and chewed, closing his eyes in ecstasy. "What did she say?"

Suddenly a voice piped up behind them. "She said that there were once two little boys who messed with their mother's cooking when they shouldn't have." Mandy grinned at Jake and Helen who'd both blushed guiltily. "Land sakes, its okay, relax. I know my boys won't touch my cooking. They're both real sweet about trying to not hurt my feelings about it though."

Helen laughed. "Go on, tell Jake, Mandy."

"Well," she sighed. "I guess the boys were maybe eight and five. I'd been making sushi..."

"What?" said Jake.

"Oh, it's raw fish on sticky rice - it's Japanese." She smiled at Jake's horrified expression. "Now don't you go makin' the same mistake again, Jake Morgendorffer," she said. "Y' gotta use fish so fresh it's still jumpin' around, but it's delicious. I'll make some for y' next time you visit if I can get some fresh salmon straight outa the river. Anyway, the boys spotted a bowl o' green stuff, an' they start darin' each other 't eat it - o' course this only came out later. Anyway, I guess they thought it was guacamole..." She looked at Jake's vacant expression again. "My, my - I can see that I'm gonna have t' educate your palates, you two. So what it was wasabi - Japanese horseradish. It's real hot, but just a tiny bit's Heavenly with good sushi." She smiled wistfully and shook her head. "Those two were always doin' silly things. I remember one time if Paul hadn't stopped Pete from climbin' up t' jump off the roof o' the barn...anyway, Willy stuck his finger in the wasabi and sucked on it. I guess it hadn't hit yet 'cause Pete did the same thing. Next thing they're wailin' at the top o' their little voices and runnin' round the room like all the demons o' Hell are after' em. We came runnin' in. Soon as we saw the finger-sized scoops out o' the wasabi and realised what had happened I ran in and got 'em glasses o' cold milk from the refrigerator."

"It sounds terrible," said Jake.

"It was worse than terrible, honey," Mandy added sadly. "Wasabi can bring tears to a grown-up's eyes, but the boys were just little and their mouths were tender. It hurts me somethin' dreadful to think of what it must o' felt like to them. And t' make it worse, they rubbed their eyes with their fingers, and, well - you can imagine."

Helen winced.

"Paul called the doctor, an' he said the best thing we could do was t' use lots o' runnin water to wash it outa their eyes. The milk helped too, but the poor little mites were in terrible pain, cryin' an wailin'. I felt worse then than I think I ever have in my life. I guess I overreacted. I wouldn't let 'em near anything spicier 'n a little salt for the next few years. Everything I cooked I made special for them without any kind o' seasoning at all. Lookin' back it was probably the worst thing I could o' done. Ruined their palates for anything at all with a little adventure in it. But the worst of it was they never trusted me again when it came t' food, an' Lord, that's somethin' I do love."

"They never grew out of it?" Jake asked.

Mandy shook her head, smiling sadly. "Paul saw the funny side of it you know, and he used t' love my cookin' - mind you it took a few years for me t' educate him - he didn't take to it at first, but he played along with the boys fer weeks afterwards. When we were eatin' he'd say 'Now boys, this here's nasty - I'll take your share.' It was all in fun o' course, but it hurt me"

Helen looked puzzled. "But Japanese food, gwocca - whatever it was - all...this..." she looked around at the food, noticing that Jake had filled a small plate with a selection of morsels which he was contentedly munching through, "where did you learn...?"

Mandy sighed again. "My Pa was a diplomat, Helen. He worked in American embassies and diplomatic missions all over the world. I was born in Germany."

Jake realised that he was staring, open mouthed, and for the first (though not the last) time he learned that appearances can make for dangerous assumptions.

"We lived in Paris, Rome, Singapore, Tokyo, all kinds of places, when I was little. I went to American international schools that the government set up for the children o' diplomats and expatriates, but Daddy always used to say that it was hard to hate someone after you spoke their language, listened to their music, and ate their food. So that's exactly what we did. He made sure that I learnt a little of the language wherever we are. French, Italian, Japanese, Vietnamese - not fluently of course, but enough to speak to people and to read a little. The embassies always had local cooks, and I used to love watching them cook."

Helen looked stunned. "But then...how...?"

"How did I end up here?" She smiled again. "Daddy was born and raised hereabouts. He retired here when I was sixteen. At first I hated it. After all that, to come to rural America where puttin' American mustard on a hot dog was considered exotic? I thought I was gonna die for a while. So I made it m' hobby to learn how t' cook the kinda food we ate overseas. Daddy loved it, and I must say I got pretty good at it. O' course you couldn't get most o' the ingredients here - people in the stores used t' think I was crazy, askin for this an' that that they'd never heard of, but I made do. I sent away for seeds and grew a lot o' my own, and Daddy's friends'd come to visit sometimes and they'd always bring me little packets or jars o' things you just couldn't get in America. People in the service'd bring me back spices and pickles and things, and mail them to us. It got so that I loved it." Suddenly sadness replaced the happiness of reminiscence on her face. "Of course the war put an end to it...and Daddy, rest his soul, passed away before it ended. But then..."

"You met Paul?" Helen asked.

"And then I met Paul," she smiled again, and stared into the distance, then turned back to her rapt audience of two. "He was the finest man I ever met. He helped me to understand that the important thing isn't where you live, it's how you feel about it." She laughed. "It sounds silly, doesn't it? That this farm could be as exotic as the _Champs Elysees_? That's a beautiful park in Paris, Jake. But it is, you know. And when Peter an' Millie got married, what with Willy away at school, I started my cookin' again, and the best part was that the things I couldn't get were startin' to be available in the stores. These days I can get a few more, and what with m' herb garden, well, I think I love it more than ever."

"But Willy and Pete never changed." Jake said.

"No, they never did." she sighed. "Maybe when Willy and Hilda move out - maybe they'll get to travel too, with the Army - I'll be more than happy to live in the cottage with my herb garden, and see my days out here, because this is where my heart is."

Helen gave way to the overwhelming urge to hug Mandy, and Mandy hugged her back happily.

"Thank you, Honey," she said. "Will you both promise me that you'll come by and visit us some time? Willy's got his Pa's taste in friends, I must say."

"I promise," Helen said.

"Well, we'd better get on with it then," Mandy picked up a knife and tapped it against a glass.

Jake, still chewing enthusiastically, reached for a plate of small pies when the sound of Mandy's tapping attracted everyone's attention and they turned towards her, as Millie brought in a classic two-tiered wedding cake, white, the top section balanced on four Corinthian pillars, and put it on the table beside her. Perched right on top was a snowglobe with a bride and groom inside, standing in a snowy winter scene.

"Folks," she said, "I want to say how happy I am that you're all here to be with us to celebrate this day." There was a polite round of applause and murmurs of agreement and congratulations. "Now, I'm not one for formalities or makin' speeches. Willy and Hilda said that they didn't want anything like that, but I have to say a few words or it wouldn't be a wedding, would it?" Polite titters of amusement. "I was saying to Jake earlier that I wish Paul was here with us today." She paused. "But wishing won't make it so. I know he'd be as happy as I am, so I'll say no more about that. Hilda, honey, it's wonderful to have you as part of our family. Now come on you two and cut the cake."

Willy and Hilda walked hand in hand to the table and took the knife from Mandy. Hilda picked up the snowglobe and shook it, watching the 'snowflakes' fall on the smiling couple. "Hey," she said, "this is soooo great!"

Mandy laughed. "Well, it's not exactly right for a summer wedding, but I liked it too. Now come on and cut the cake."

They both held the knife handle and plunged it into the cake to the applause of the guests. Willy looked over at his mother. "Well, I ain't gonna say much but thank-you, Ma." He looked back at Hilda and put his arm round her. "I don't reckon there's a man on Earth so happy as I am today. What more could a man want? I got a beautiful wife, wonderful friends," a smile towards Jake, "a great brother an' sister in law, a fine job t' go to - even if it's a bit sooner than we'd want." Another round of laughter from the guests. "Wonderful friends and relatives an' neighbours, an'...well...the best mother a man could have I reckon. And yeah - the only thing I could want would be Pa, but like Ma says, that's somethin' we just have to live with. I wanna say a special thanks to m' buddy, Jake. Jake's been a real good pal these four years, and we've had some good times. And some bad ones. But Jake, I'm real pleased that you an' Helen could be here. Hilda an' me hope you'll come an' see us real often." He looked around at the faces of the people he'd known most if his life, seeing the inevitable rear or two, and he held Hilda closer and she turned to smile at him. "Thank y' all." His voice cracked just a little on that last, and he turned again to kiss Hilda while another round of applause and muttered good wishes rose around them.

Jake drifted back over to the table, selecting the tastiest morsels he could find and closing his eyes in the ecstacy of discovery of each new taste sensation, while Helen, nibbling on a curry puff, watched in amusement. Someone put a nondescript middle-of-the-road album on the record player, distracting her for a second or two, and when she looked back Jake was standing there looking as if he'd just eaten a wasabi sandwich. Helen hurried over to him.

"Jake? What's wrong?" she asked, taking his arm.

"I just realised...." he said, "...all this time..."

"What?"

He turned to her. "Care packages. Every goddam month Mandy sent him care packages. Full of food."

"Oh God. And you..."

"Every last one. Do you have any idea how much incredible food I helped him toss into trash?"

It was too much. Helen tilted her head back and roared with laughter.

"There's nothing funny about it," Jake said despondently.

Helen tried valiantly to keep a straight face, then, loosing her battle, she broke into laughter and pulled him out onto the middle of the room where people were starting to dance.

After an hour of dancing, eating, and threatening to end Willy's marriage before it got started, the festivities were interrupted by the sound of tapping on another glass as he record player became silent.

"Willy, Hilda," Peter said from over by the door, "What's supposed t' happen now is that y' get into the limo an' drive off t' the cruise ship or the plane t' take y' t' some exotic place. I know that's what's s'posed t' happen 'cause I seen it on the TV." The guests laughed. "So if you two wanna come on outside, your limousine awaits!" He bowed low and swept his arm beneath him in the direction of the door.

Surprised looks followed Willy and Hilda outside, turning to laughter as they reached the porch. In front of the gate stood Aunt Patsy's old horse, Charlie, pulling an ancient grey wagon whose sides were emblazoned with 'Just Married' painted haphazardly on the sides in white paint, and a dozen tin cans tied by string to the back.

Hilda laughed so hard that Willy was afraid she'd tire herself out. They walked down the path to the cheers of the guests, and Willy bowed low to Hilda. "May I help you into your carriage, my dear?" he said, triggering another round of laughter. Hilda climbed up onto the seat and Willy sat beside her, holding Charlie's reins.

Mandy handed up a wicker basket lined with straw, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "Just in case you get thirsty," she said, grinning.

Willy flicked the reins and said "Gya, Charlie." The old horse walked off slowly as Hilda leaned her head on his shoulder. People waved and tin cans clattered.

"Just turn old Charlie round and send him back when you get t' the cottage," Patsy called. "He knows the way home."

Jake and Helen watched Willy turn and wave. The warm afternoon sunshine painted the scene in shades of orange and crimson. Just then, a single cloud positioned itself in the precise spot to throw a shadow across Willy, leaving Hilda in sunshine. And Fate, standing at the back of the group, lifted an arm and waved.

* * *

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV except for Willy and his family who belong to us.

**Special thanks:** to all our beta readers: AhMyGoddess, Steven Galloway, Milderbeast, Martin J. Pollard, Mike Nassour, and RLobinske.

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


	13. Expanding Horizons

All My Children 

by Thea Zara and Deref 

Chapter 13: Expanding Horizons

o0o

Ten minutes?

Jake looked nervously at his watch. _I guess it could take ten minutes_, he thought. He looked over at the bushes by the side of the road and tried to work out what they might be. Didn't the leaf shape have something to do with what they were called? He seemed to remember that it did. He reached down and fiddled with the radio dial again. Still nothing. He opened the glove compartment and took out the car's owner's manual, thumbing through it in case something interesting had inserted itself in the five minutes since he'd last looked. Nothing. He put the manual back and closed the glove compartment. Then he opened it and closed it again, listening to the satisfying 'click'. He glanced at his watch again. Eleven minutes. Damn. Eleven minutes was plenty. He opened the door and got out, peering over the roof of the car to the bushes.

"Helen?" he called quietly.

Nothing.

A little louder. "Helen? Are you okay?"

Just the sound of the breeze in the trees.

Jake's heart beat a little faster as he walked around the car and across the road.

"Helen?"

This was where she'd gone, wasn't it? He hadn't really paid any attention, but he thought she'd gone this way.

"HELEN!"

Dammit! He should have paid more attention! He looked around to see if there were any footprints. Nothing. He thought about how it would be in the movies.

_"See that broken twig? Three men came by two days ago. One had a limp and was wearing a red shirt. One of them was carrying a heavy bag over his right shoulder. The other one was six feet tall and had a scar on his right cheek."_

"HELEEEEEEEN!"

Now he was starting to worry. She should have been able to hear that. He cupped his hands around his mouth, breathed in and clenched his stomach muscles so that he could yell as loudly as he could. "HHHEEEELLLLLEEEEEEENNNNNNN".

He held his breath to make sure that he'd hear any faint reply. If only he could hold his heartbeat. Whatever a trip hammer was, it must go damn fast!

"HELEEEN".

Wait - had she gone over this side of the road? He really hadn't taken any notice. Damn! She must have gone over to the other side! He ran across to the other side of the road where the car was parked.

He called again.

The horn. _Of course._ He ran back to the driver's side, reached in through the window and pushed the horn ring. Nothing. _What the...?_ Damn! Maybe the horn only worked if the keys were in the ignition. She'd taken them with her. Stupid.

He pushed the horn ring again. Harder. Nothing.

Eleven minutes? What had he been thinking! If he'd started calling after five minutes she would have heard him!

"HEELLEEN".

Breathing fast and shallow now, Jake realised that she wasn't going to answer. He looked around again for signs - footprints, broken twigs, anything. But he was sure she'd gone to the other side. He ran across again, looking desperately for something - anything. Was that a broken leaf? He looked more closely. Yes! He parted the bushes. Nothing. No clearing, just more of the same. He was sweating now, and he looked down for more signs that she'd come this way.

Panic started to set in. He started to run. The branches tore at his clothes and his face and hands. He looked around. _Nothing._ There was no sign that anyone had been here. He stopped. Yelling was no good. If she could hear him - _or if she could answer_ - she would have.

"Helen....? Please..." he croaked, his voice starting to crack.

"Please?"

Things started to spin, and he sunk to his knees.

"Please...Helen...."

"So this is what you call looking after someone, is it?"

Jake spun around.

"Mr. Barksdale?"

"'I'll look after her,' you said. 'Count on it', you said."

Jake stood up, trembling, tears running down his cheeks.

"Mr. Barksdale - I...."

"Well? Where is she, Jake?"

"I....I don't know...she..."

"You were looking after her - WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?"

"I...I..."

"Didn't you HEAR her? Didn't you HEAR her calling for you?"

"Helen..." he whispered.

"If you'd been a MINUTE earlier...but oh no! You had to wait!"

He fell forward, sobbing.

"Jake?"

He lifted his face from the ground to look where Helen's father had been standing.

_...oh no...oh no..._

"Jake? Why didn't you come?"

Jake strained to get the word out.

"I was so scared, Jake. Why didn't you come?"

"A...A..." She was heartbreakingly beautiful, her hair falling over her face in the moonlight, just like it had that night. Jake felt as if his heart was about to burst from his chest and his tears burned like fire....

"I thought you loved me."

"A...Amanda...I...."

"Goddam pissant. Couldn't find your own ass with both hands, could you, boy?"

Jake froze. He looked around to see where she'd gone...

"What's the matter, boy?" Mad Dog was grinning.

Jake felt the bile of fury rise up in him. "What have you done with her? WHERE IS SHE?" he screamed.

"You think that a pissant like you could ever deserve a woman like her?" Mad Dog Morgendorffer threw his head back and laughed.

He turned to see Helen's father standing there.

"She trusted you. I think she loved you."

"Loved you?" said Mad Dog. "You? She loved you? Fat chance that'll ever happen again, boy!"

His head snapped back around to where Mad Dog stood, but he'd gone.

"Jake? Please Jake..."

"Pissant!"

"YOUR FAULT!"

"Please..."

o0o

Amanda looked around the apartment with a small sense of pride. They'd been in New York City for just a little more than three weeks and she'd managed to turn it into a liveable, if still slightly barren, home. Some ratty furniture had come with it. When combined with the odds and ends they used on the road, she'd only had to do a little junk store combing to find the rest of their basic needs. From time to time she found herself slipping into comparison with the place in San Francisco. It had been airy and full of light, where the New York apartment was dingy and dark, and a little musty, so she stopped herself whenever it happened. New York hadn't been the bastion of culture she'd hoped for... at least not yet. It was hot, smelly, and just plain loud. For Wind's sake she was glad that it was a temporary arrangement, though she didn't mind putting up with it herself. Getting around was hard since she was getting round, and she hadn't had a chance to get out and see the galleries yet. But it was home. And every night Vincent would come back from his day's schmoozing and they'd sit and talk about the people he'd met, and they'd play with Wind, and share a meal, and laugh, and life was good.

With a sigh of contentment she wiggled her way off the couch and waddled to the sink for a glass of water. The pipes shook and rattled, and finally she got a glass of rust coloured sludge which she stared at for a minute but couldn't quite bring herself to drink. With a sigh, she poured out the water and set the glass on the sink where yet another surprise awaited. Her shrieks shook the thin walls on either side and brought a sleeping Vincent quickly to his feet. He surveyed the scene and stifled a laugh as he washed the two-inch roach down the sink and helped Amanda back over to the couch as she plastered a smile on her face in a valiant attempt not to burst into tears.

"So what's on the schedule tomorrow?" she asked, a faint tremor in her voice.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, pouring her a glass of juice from the refrigerator. "I thought...maybe...the Guggenheim, or perhaps the Met."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"I'm having a day off. And so are you." He handed her the juice, then scooped up Wind and sat him on his knee. "My son and I going to spend a day together and you're going to take a cab to..."

"THE MET!" she squealed.

"The Met," Vincent echoed. "And you and me," he said, looking at Wind, "might just go for a walk in the park. How does that sound?"

"Da," said Wind.

o0o

Jake woke with a start and sat up, gulping in a lungful of air and sighing with relief. But as he turned to tell Helen about it, he froze. Helen wasn't there. The car was parked exactly where it had been in his dream. The bushes by the side of the road...the time of day...the bend up ahead...identical. He reached down to pinch himself and broke out in a cold sweat with the realisation that this was no dream. He snapped his head around to face across the road. The same bushes.

He tried to suck in another breath but his diaphragm refused to co-operate. Straining with every ounce of his will, Jake finally filled his lungs with air, then released it all in a scream of sheer terror.

"HHHEEEELLLLLEEEEEEENNNNNNNN!"

"Jake?"

He turned. Helen opened the driver's side door and climbed in, looking Jake cautiously in the eye.

"What's the matter?"

Jake stared.

"Jake? What's wrong?"

"Thank God you're alright!" he breathed, throwing his arms around her neck.

"Why shouldn't I be all right?" Helen grunted, thinking that it would have been nice if it hadn't been so...weird. "Jake! What the hell's the..." and she realised he was trembling.

"I...it was..."

"You were dreaming. You've been asleep for the last thirty miles."

He looked up and stared into her eyes. "I promised your father I'd look after you, Helen. I'm going to! I'm not going to let anything happen to you!"

Helen pulled back from his embrace, scowling. "You listen to me, Jake Morgendorffer! My father thinks that that's why I let you come along on this trip, but if you think for one minute that that's why _I _let you come then you've got another damn think coming, buster!"

Jake looked puzzled. "Then why _did_ you let me come?"

_Damn, _she thought, _I walked into that one. _"Just you remember that I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any chances," he said as Helen started the car and pulled back onto the road.

o0o

Car horns blared a fanfare as a Yellow Cab pulled back into the traffic, leaving a weary and footsore Amanda on a hot New York sidewalk. Wearing a beatific smile on her face, she tightly clutched a white paper bag and a catalogue with the words _Metropolitan Museum of Art_ printed in simple black on white. The hazy, early afternoon sun beat down as she glanced left towards The Rose Café, right towards the apartment block, up to the sun which was still high in the sky, and made her decision.

The café was still full of lunchtime stragglers as Amanda made her way down the aisle to the only table that had a spare seat, a small round one occupied by an early twenty-something, casually dressed man reading a copy of the New York Times and thoughtfully sipping a coffee. Amanda rested her hand on her stomach to emphasise her condition, and smiled charmingly.

"Do you mind?"

The man looked up over his paper. "Oh, please! Let me help," he said, dropping his newspaper as he stood and walked around to the other side o the table to hold Amanda's chair out for her.

"Thanks," she said, smiling back at him as she slid into the seat. "My feet are killing me!"

He looked down at the booklet in her hand. "Oh - the Met!"

"Uh huh. It was incredible!"

"First visit?" he asked as he sat back down opposite her.

Amanda nodded.

He grinned. "The first time I went I spent a whole hour just staring at one work. It..."

"The usual, Hon?"

Amanda looked round to the waitress. "No, I'd like a big, cold, Coke, please Maria."

"Sure. Extra ice. Comin' up."

"Sorry," she said. " - you're kidding...?"

"No! Never," he enthused. "I think it was the first time that I knew I'd come face to face with genius. It was almost a physical sensation of awe." He smiled. "I guess it's hard to believe, but..."

"No! No - that's the thing! Exactly the same thing happened to me today! I was...lost in it I guess you'd say."

"May I ask what...?"

Amanda reached into the paper bag, pulled out a postcard, and handed it to him. He took it, looked down at it, and looked back up at Amanda with wide eyes. Leonardo's Head of the Virgin.

She nodded again. "I've wanted to see it since I was at school, but I never guessed what it'd be like, seeing the real thing. Do you know it?"

He looked up at her. "Intimately. I spent an hour staring at her."

"If you're gonna sit there with your mouth open, Hon, you'd better put one of these straws in it." Maria put a tall glass of Coke and ice in front of Amanda, who turned to her and laughed, then turned back to the man across the table.

"Seriously? You mean that was the thing that...?"

"Seriously. It's incredible isn't it? I kept thinking that if I could walk around to the back of the picture I'd see it extending in three dimensions." He Picked up the postcard and stared at it. "Even the best reproductions don't come anywhere near it, do they? Just to be there in front of it - I don't know..."

Three cokes, two cups of coffee, a large slice of coconut cream pie each, two trips to the bathroom, and an hour and a half later, he'd introduced himself as Paul Katz; Amanda had reciprocated, they'd realised that they'd seen each other in the diner from time to time, and they'd delighted in each other's love of art, before the conversation turned to music and the theatre.

"John and I are going to a poetry reading tonight. I've been looking forward to it for weeks," he said.

Amanda looked up. "John?"

Paul blushed. My boyfr...my friend." He looked up to see the look on her face, and he felt like kicking himself. They'd been getting along so well, he had let his guard down, and now she'd either take off, or cause a scene - maybe the whole "sinner" thing or, worse yet. the "you're a freak" one.

While Paul was mentally kicking himself Amanda was attempting to process the new information. After nearly a minute of silence between them she finally reconnected her brain to her mouth. "So, what's he like?"

Paul smiled, feeling a flicker of relief. "A bit older than me. He works at a publishing house as a junior editor."

"He reads a lot then? "

"Not as much as you'd think. He does more fact checking than actual editing, but he's up for a promotion next month."

"So," she started cautiously, "you two, you're...um... together?"

Paul mentally crossed his fingers before answering. "Yes."

"Neat," Amanda replied, then returned the conversation to the theatre as Paul breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Vincent, meanwhile, trudged up the stairs, back from the park with Wind fast asleep in a papoose on his back. As he turned the key in the lock he heard the door behind him open.

"Aw, look at the little guy, fast asleep."

He turned and smiled at Mrs McGillicuddy, their matronly neighbour. "Big day in the park."

"Here - let me help you off with that," she said, lifting Wind out of the papoose and holding him gently while Vincent shrugged out of the shoulder straps. "Is Amanda in? I just wanted to see if she had any vanilla - the grandkids are coming over tomorrow so I'm baking a cake and I'm clean out."

"Thanks. Probably," Vincent said, "I sent her off to the Met while I looked after Wind. She's sure to be back by now. Come on in."

"Ooh - she's been lookin' forward to that," she said, following Vincent into the apartment.

"Honey?" He poked his head into the bedroom to see if she was lying down. "I guess she's not back yet," he said, hiding an expression of concern.

"Oh, okay," Mrs. McGillicuddy replied, thinking what a bad job he'd done of trying to hid the fact that he was a little worried. "Would you mind asking..."

"Oh - no problem - I bet we've got some - I'll look." He rummaged around in the kitchen and produced a small bottle of brown liquid which he handed to her.

She took it, smiling. "Thank you, Hon. Say - why don't you go down to the Rose and get yourself a coffee? You look like you could use it. I'll look after Wind."

"Yeah? Really? That'd be great!" he said. "Thanks Mrs. McGillicuddy. I won't be long."

"Take your time, hon. Wind and me'll be just fine."

"Okay - if he wakes up..."

"If he wakes up I'll give him a drink of milk or a peanut butter sandwich. Or a hamburger. Go on with you now!"

He laughed and, knowing that Amanda had been happy to leave Wind with the genial grandmother from time to time, left them to the apartment. As he rode the creaking antique elevator down three floors, Vincent told himself that Amanda wasn't really late, she'd only been gone five - well, nearly six - hours. She could spend days - weeks - at the Met. But the rational part of him knew that, being nearly seven months pregnant, she'd get tired after half an hour on her feet, and that he'd expected that she'd be back a couple of hours ago at the most. The worried human brain is that most exquisite of torturers, infinitely inventive and possessed of a subtle knowledge of its own weaknesses. And Vincent, for the first but not the last time, felt its exploratory probings.

o0o

"Jake!"

"Uh uh! I'm not letting you out of my sight. No way!"

"I _know_ what my father said, Jake!"

"It's a dangerous world, Helen. Besides, it's not just that I promised your Dad."

"I don't _care_ what your intentions are, Jake. You can't come into the ladies' bathroom!"

"Ooookay, then," Jake said uncertainly. "I'll go to the men's bathroom and I'll see you back in the restaurant. Okay?"

"Fine!" snapped Helen, and she stormed off as Jake turned and walked away, looking back over his shoulder as Helen threw the bathroom door open and walked in.

A few minutes later as she came out and turned towards the restaurant, but was stopped by a short man with greasy brown hair, wearing a checked shirt and faded jeans. "'Scuse me, honey," he mumbled, taking her by the elbow. "Wouldja be able t' help me with some directions?"

Helen turned. "Sorry - I'm just passing through. I don't know this area," she said and turned to go, but he strengthened his grip.

"Maybe y' could just come out t' my car - I've got a map..."

"I'm sorry - I'm sure someone local could help you," she said, starting to get annoyed.

"I got a nice car, honey, I bet you'd like t' take a ride."

"Look," she said, "I can't help you, and I'm not interested in cars." She shook her elbow free of him and walked off toward the restaurant. He scowled and reached out to grab her again but stopped, feeling a hand on his shoulder.

Jake's face was red. "Try it."

He stopped, turned, scowled again, and walked out into the parking lot.

Helen had turned, hearing his voice, and she stomped over to where he was standing watching the man leave. "Get a grip, Jake! He was just asking directions!"

"How do you know that was all he wanted, Helen?"

"BECAUSE HE WAS ASKING ME DIRECTIONS," she railed, "That's how! Now listen to me, you male chauvinist PIG! Stop this nonsense, for God's sake!"

"Come on - I found us a table by the window," Jake muttered, sagging and leading her over to the south side of the room. As she sat down a beaten up green Pontiac screeched out of the parking lot outside, narrowly missing a small boy walking past.

"Idiot," Helen muttered, recognising the driver as the man who'd asked her for directions, and picked up the menu.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "Hmm. Hash browns I think. And coffee."

o0o

The first thing Vincent noticed when he walked into the diner was Amanda, leaning over a table full of glasses, plates, and coffee cups, towards a strange man as they pored over a book. His train of thought barrelled straight from relief - passing, but not stopping at, annoyance - and reaching the end of the line at the hitherto unexplored station of jealousy.

Amanda and Paul both looked up, startled, as Vincent pulled out and sat down in a chair between them, putting a glass of iced tea down in front of him.

"Oh - Vincent - uh..."

"Hello Amanda." His voice was cold, mistaking Amanda's surprise for guilt, not thinking for a second that the last place Amanda would choose to do anything underhanded - if she would - would be here. The green-eyed monster is blind as well as dumb.

"Vincent," Paul smiled, sensing Amanda's discomfort and Vincent's hostility. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Paul."

"Pleased to meet you," Vincent lied.

"Amanda was just showing me the catalogue she picked up at The Met."

"Yes. I'm sure."

Amanda's gaze flicked back and forth with the play of conversation, like a spectator at a tennis match, as she slowly realised what was happening. Vincent was jealous. Her eyes widened momentarily, and a thought crept into her mind: _Time to get even for Dino and Sam, my Dear._ She turned to him and did her best impression of a puppy dog. "Paul's such an _interesting_ person! The time's just flown by," and, turning back to Paul and winking so slightly that she thought he may not have seen it, "Hasn't it, Paul?"

Vincent sizzled.

Paul caught the wink and felt decidedly uncomfortable seeing the effect that Amanda's game was having on Vincent. But he decided to play along up to a point, and see what she was getting at.

"Oh yes!" he said, staring into her eyes. "It's been so...stimulating!" He breathed the word, and immediately felt guilty.

Amanda felt a twinge of guilt too at the look on Vincent's face, but the memory of Vegas firmed her resolve. "Paul was talking about going out, weren't you Paul?" She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. "It should be fun."

Vincent's face darkened even more and he 'accidentally' knocked their hands apart as he reached for the sugar for his iced tea. "Amanda, could you move over a little? There's just not enough leg room here." When she moved over, just out of hand-holding range, Vincent turned and stretched his legs out.

Paul's eyes widened as he reached out a hand and stroked the arm of Vincent's coat. "That's nice, did you get it around here?" At that moment he realized someone was standing over their table.

"John," he said, his face turning red. "Uh, this is my friend Amanda, and her friend Vincent."

John seated himself across from Vincent and grunted, shooting Vincent an irritated look. At first glance Amanda took him to be middle aged, but she soon realised that he was in his mid-twenties, but prematurely balding, his thinning black hair surrounding a shiny bald pate like a monk's tonsure..

Paul decided that enough was enough, reached out for John's hand, and said quietly "Amanda, Vincent, this is my...boyfriend, John." He blushed a little, not only at the effort and the risk, but also at having to use such a ridiculous word to describe their relationship and wishing there was something more dignified.

John turned to Paul, the look on his face posing the obvious question.

Amanda, sensing that John had just played a very dangerous card, immediately reached out for Vincent's hand. "My husband, actually." She pulled his hand close to her and looked into his eyes with unmistakable adoration.

Vincent, meanwhile, tried furiously to cope with the last few seconds of information. _Paul? John? Boyfriend? What the... Amanda...?_

John looked back and forth between Paul and Vincent, wondering whether there was going to be an explosion of invective or whether Paul knew these people well enough...

"It's great to meet you, John. Paul's told me all about you," Amanda offered, hoping to move things in the direction she wanted, and to buy Vincent a few seconds, confident about how he was going to react but knowing that he'd need a second or two. She saw John relax a little and she squeezed Vincent's hand. Vincent had had enough time to interpret a little of the situation and, feeling Amanda's squeeze, decided to go along, knowing that explanations could wait. He held his hand out to John and smiled.

"A pleasure, John. Vincent Lane. "

o0o

The bedroom was never really dark, thanks to the glow from the neon sign above the deli across the street. Vincent turned over and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Two-fifteen. In the lulls between the traffic noise that seeped through the window, cracked open to let in whatever breeze there might be on a hot summer night, he could hear Amanda breathing. He closed his eyes, and opened them again thirty seconds later, the thoughts buzzing around in his head like angry hornets made it useless to try getting back to sleep. He slipped silently out from under the single sheet that covered them, and padded the two steps over to the chair where he'd carelessly tossed yesterday's clothes, looking back to see that she hadn't stirred. Wind lay sprawled across his cot in a position that would have been impossibly uncomfortable for an adult. None of them bothered with nightclothes in this weather and, picking up the underpants he'd worn yesterday he considered whether it was worth risking opening the drawer to get out a clean pair, but he decided against it. The drawer always stuck and it was sure to wake her up. He gently picked up the jeans and t-shirt, bent down to get the socks and sneakers from the floor, and walked silently out into the next room, quietly pulling the door closed behind him.

He dropped the clothes on a chair and walked over to the fridge (the light had burned out a week ago and he hadn't got round to replacing it yet), took out the half-full gallon of milk and poured himself a glass. He took a deep breath after he finished it, put the glass down quietly on the sink before returning the milk to the darkened fridge, and went back to put the rest of his clothes.

A stinging bead of sweat ran down his brow and into his eye. He wiped it away, closed the door and decided to take the stairs down three flights to the front door of the brownstone apartment block. The street was quiet for New York, but not deserted. A dark (blue? it was hard to tell in the dim monochromatic light) Chevy cruised slowly down the street and Vincent glanced at the driver and his female passenger. _Friend? Daughter? Paid company?_ he wondered idly, and turned in the direction that the car had gone.

The year replayed itself in his mind as he walked aimlessly through the New York night. More had happened in that one year than in the last 20, and he thought of the chance encounter that had led to the sleeping woman and child he'd left behind, and the new life in her belly. The encounter with Paul had rattled him more than he cared to admit - to himself, let alone to Amanda. He realised that, at least in Amanda's mind, he'd probably deserved what she'd dished out, and perhaps he had. But that twisting, angry sensation was a feeling that wasn't just unpleasant, it struck at the roots of who he was. The worst thing about it was that, somewhere, deep down, he must still be insecure about Amanda, not completely confident, afraid...

He turned right towards the Hudson River, surprised to hear the faint sounds of a banjo from the apartment block he was walking past and he smiled mirthlessly, thinking how pleased the banjo player's neighbours must be to be serenaded with Turkey in the Straw at this time of the morning.

The brownstone apartments gave way to warehouses as he neared the river, and he looked across to the lights on the Jersey shore, thinking about the diner. Amanda's embarrassed admission that she'd been trying to get even for the Dino and Sammy thing (even though he'd done nothing--hadn't thought for a second that she wouldn't have recognised them); John's even more embarrassed admission that he'd thought that Paul was coming on to him; his own furious attempts to take in what had been happening. He smiled again and shook his head. Amanda had a talent for hooking up with interesting people. He thought of the way she'd looked at him, at the love in those blue eyes, and scolded himself for doubting her.

He turned round to head back as a car horn sounded a few streets away. It was going to be a late night. They'd accepted the offer to go with Paul and John to the poetry reading at their favourite bar, and it didn't start until eleven.

He quietly opened the bedroom door. Amanda hadn't moved. Wind had turned over and looked a little more comfortable. He left his clothes where they fell and climbed slowly into the bed. Amanda grunted and turned over, opening one eye.

"What's up?" she muttered, half asleep.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Couldn't sleep. Went out for a walk."

She opened the other eye. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's just fine." He smiled, and shuffled closer to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Go back to sleep".

She smiled back. "What's the time?"

He cocked an eye towards the clock. "Nearly four."

"Mmmm, c'mere..." she said, snuggling close.

The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village was a shabby dive. If it hadn't been for Paul and John's enthusiastic greeting as they'd walked up behind them, they probably would have turned around and left. Paul led them through the main bar into a smoky back room, filled with an extraordinary mix of people - students, businessmen, young people, older people - all chatting, drinking, and generally enjoying themselves. Some were dancing on the small dance floor to the music from the jukebox in the corner. The only thing that distinguished it from any other bar was that some of the couples dancing were both men. Some were men and women and, Amanda noticed with not a little confusion, some were both women.

John led them to a free table and sat them down. "The usual, honey?" he asked. Paul smiled and nodded. "Amanda, Vincent?"

"Beer, thanks," Vincent responded enthusiastically and Amanda, patting her stomach, ordered a lemonade.

"Paul, sweety!"

They looked up to see a tall, elegantly dressed and, Vincent and Amanda both thought, absolutely stunning, red-headed woman bend down and plant a friendly kiss on Paul's lips.

"Carlotta!" Paul grinned. "These are our friends Amanda and Vincent. Amanda, Vincent, this is Carlotta."

"Oooh - delighted to meet you," Carlotta said. "Amanda? You lucky thing! Where did you meet this gorgeous hunk?"

Vincent blushed as Amanda, perhaps a little too quickly, grabbed Vincent's hand. "It's a long story," she said, "But he is, isn't he?"

"I hope you'll tell me the story one day," Carlotta said. "Paul, honey, where's that luscious man of yours?"

Paul nodded towards the Bar where John was looking back at the table, waving at Carlotta. She blew him a kiss and, to Vincent's obvious pleasure, hitched up her ample bosom. "Why is it that all the good looking ones are taken?"

"I guess they just haven't met you yet," Vincent said, earning a dirty look from Amanda, a chuckle from Paul, and a squeal of delight from Carlotta.

"Sweety," she said, turning to Amanda, "if you ever get tired of him you let me know!"

Before Amanda could react, John arrived back with the drinks and a hug for Carlotta. "What can I get you, Carlotta?" he asked.

"Nothing for me, thanks, honey. I can't afford to waste any more time with you couples if I'm going to find myself a hunk of my own, now can I?"

"Carlotta, you're a dreadful old whore!" John returned, slapping Carlotta on her firm posterior. Amanda's eyes widened, waiting for Carlotta to slap his face in return.

"So true", she sighed, "but less of the 'old' thank you!" She turned to Amanda and Vincent. "Lovely to meet you, folks, I hope we'll see you here some more."

"The pleasure was all mine," Vincent returned.

Carlotta smiled, and walked off quickly, saving Amanda the trouble of thinking of a reply.

"Wow! Ow!" said Vincent, as Amanda kicked his ankle.

John laughed. "Don't worry about Carlotta, she flirts with everyone. She doesn't mean any harm.

"Mm," Amanda replied. "If you say so, but she really is beautiful. I can't believe that she hasn't got a boyfriend."

"Well, it's not so much that," Paul said, "it's more that she has too many, if you know what I mean."

"Wow! Ow!" Vincent repeated. "Hey! Joking!"

Paul laughed. "Amanda - you're jealous!"

Amanda blushed. "Turnabout's fair play," Vincent grumbled, bending down to rub his ankle.

"Well," John added, "it's not as if you have anything to worry about -- unless, that is..."

"Is what?" Amanda asked.

"Um, unless..."

"Unless Vincent swings both ways is what he's trying to say," Paul said.

"Swings?" Vincent said.

"Both ways?" Amanda continued.

John and Paul glanced at each other, then at Amanda and Vincent, then back at each other, and burst out laughing.

"What?" Vincent asked.

"Oh my dears," Paul said. "I'm sorry. We just assumed you'd realised..."

"That this is a bar for the...the..." Amanda blushed again.

"For the camp scene, yes, you told us," Vincent returned.

"Well, yes." Said John.

"Ohmygod," Amanda said, her mouth open. You mean..."

Vincent looked Amanda, his face turning red.

"Let me put it this way, Amanda dear," John said, "if you found yourself in bed with Carlotta you wouldn't be disappointed. Not that you would - or that she would for that matter."

Paul looked daggers at him. "Oh yes? And how would _you_ know?"

"One hears stories." John said, with a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth expression.

"Mmm. I certainly hope so!" Paul said, winking at Amanda. "But we do owe you both a little background information."

"Uh, yeah," said Vincent.

John pointed to the dance floor. "You see the couple over there? The guy with the black hair dancing with the blond?"

Amanda and Vincent looked to where he was pointing and nodded.

"That's Tony and Felice. Tony's a guy and Felice is a girl."

"Oh my God!" Amanda said. "You mean all the rest are boys?"

John and Paul again exchanged glances and burst out laughing. "No, of course not - the girls dancing with girls are all girls. But I'd say that you two, and Tony and Felice, are the only straights in here tonight."

"What?" Amanda said. "I don't understand?"

"Straights - that's what we call heterosexuals - you know - boys who like girls and vice versa."

"Oh, I got that, but I mean the girls dancing with girls. I thought you were saying that you were all..."

"Homosexuals, dear though we prefer 'gays'," John said.

"I'm confused." Amanda said. "You said they were girls..."

John and Paul looked at each other again, but didn't laugh this time. "Uh, honey, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten." Paul turned to John. "Catholic boarding school," Then, turning back to Amanda, "The girls are lesbians."

Amanda sat for a moment in thought, as she had when Paul had first mentioned John in the diner. "But...but how do they...?"

John leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Amanda turned purple, picked up her glass of lemonade, and drank deeply.

o0o

"Here!" Helen fumed, holding Jake at arm's length by the collar. "Do something with him! Mellow him out for GOD's sake, before I KILL him!"

"Uh, sure Lavender," Coyote said, "but, uh, what...?"

Jake looked around, confused. "Uh, Lavender"?

"I always used to call her that. It's a pretty name," Willow muttered.

Helen ignored her. "Not...one...damn...minute," she said through gritted teeth. "He didn't let me out of his sight for one...goddam...minute!"

"What," said Willow, "even when you were...?"

"If I hadn't physically restrained him he would have!"

"But dammit, Helen, or Lavender," whined Jake. "I was just..."

"Yes. Yes, I know," Helen said resignedly, turning to Willow and Coyote. "He was only trying to look after me. He promised my father..."

"Damn right I did! And not just your father, Helen!"

"I KNOW, Jake, but you just CAN'T..."

"Whoa, Whoa, man!" Said Coyote, gently. "Be cool, be cool! Peace, Jake man! I'm Coyote, and this is Willow...."

"Peace, man," said Willow, holding up her right index and second fingers towards Jake.

"Peace," Jake moaned, returning the symbolic gesture.

"I think what we need here is a little headspace, right?" said Coyote in his most calming voice.

"A little head REMOVAL's what we..."

"Lavender! bad Karma!" said Willow.

"Why don't you two go and check the place out," Coyote offered, putting his arm around Jake's shoulders and gently turning him away from Helen and Willow. "Jakey and me'll get to know each other, maybe smoke a pipe of peace, eh, Jakey?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jake said uncertainly, turning back to look at Helen as they walked away.

"It's okay, man, Willow won't let anything uncool happen to her," he said, thinking _This guy's tighter than a gnat's ass stretched over a rain barrel. He must be a lot cooler than he seems or Lavender wouldn't have hooked up with him._

Helen stood there, watching him go, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Lavender?" Willow asked, "is he as uncool as that all the time?"

She tore her attention away from Jake and turned to Willow, shaking her head. "No. I mean he's certainly got some hang-ups, but it's weird. He was asleep in the car. I stopped to take a pee and when I got back he was...like this. He just wouldn't let me out of his sight. He said he dreamed about my father..."

"Whoa, babe!" Willow interjected! "A dream? About the Big A?"

Helen smiled, remembering Willow's expression for her father. "Yeah - I dunno - something happened to me and he saw my father, screaming at him, telling him it was all his fault."

Willow gaped. "You know what I think, man? I think he's had a psychic visitation!"

"Really?" said Helen, a touch of scepticism in her voice.

"Oh yeah! I'll make us some yarrow tea and tell you about it!"

o0o

"Oh shit!" Paul said, looking over Amanda's shoulder.

John turned to see what Paul was looking at and his face fell.

"What?" asked Vincent, looking around and not seeing anything more out of the ordinary than he already had.

Paul nodded towards two tall men in suits who were walking slowly among the tables. "Cops. I think we're going to get..."

"Stay where you are, please, everybody. This is Deputy Inspector Seymore Pine of the New York Police. You know the drill."

"...raided."

"Again," John muttered.

Amanda and Vincent watched in stunned silence as a group of half a dozen besuited police walked calmly through the door and started leading people out.

"It's not really much more than theatrics," Paul said.

"It's all so calm!" said Amanda, watching as Carlotta was led out, seemingly happy to chat to the policeman who was leading her away. "Somehow it's not how I imagined a raid."

"Yeah," added Vincent, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small camera. "What do you mean?"

"Will that work in here, I mean without a flashgun?" asked John, nodding at the camera.

"I might get something. I've got a fast film in it and if I push it in developing..." he said, surreptitiously firing off a couple of shots from table level, "I might get something usable."

Paul continued. "It's complicated. The cops are actually pretty good about it. They're under orders from higher up, and whatever the politics are, they're not really gunning for us." He picked up his beer and finished it. "We're the whipping boys for the religious fanatics and the rednecks..."

"And we're getting damn sick of it," John interjected.

"...but the cops are after bigger fish than us."

"Bigger fish?" Vincent asked, taking another photograph as the police led one of the bar staff out..

"What happened during prohibition?" John asked rhetorically.

"Organised crime took over the distribution of alcohol," said Amanda.

"Exactly. They're opportunists. We're easy targets for every damn idiot looking for a fight, And sometimes..."

"Okay you four, outside," said a bored-sounding policeman coming up behind Amanda and, to her surprise, pulling out the chair for her as she stood up. She turned to thank him but he'd already turned his attention to another group. They stood and joined the people being herded out under the watchful eye of Inspector Pine.

"...for people like Carlotta, it gets..." Paul paused.

"Deadly, " continued John. "You know what happens? No - I 'll bet you don't," he said. "More times than not, they're raped. And that's before they're beaten within an inch of their lives, or past it."

"But..." Amanda started.

"But we're attacked because we're filthy homos. Goddam faggots. Unnatural. Against the laws of God and man. And they rape us." He shook his head in bewilderment. Amanda saw the anger in his face, and she saw Paul reach down to squeeze his hand as he turned back to them. "So we don't - we can't - go to 'normal' bars. And where there's a vacuum..."

"Oh, man! I get it!" said Vincent.

"Yeah. Most of the gay bars are run by the Mafia," John muttered.

"Including this one?" Amanda asked.

"Damned if I know," he answered. "Probably. We don't care. They're the only places where we can be ourselves. The mob doesn't tolerate trouble in their own joints, and that's good enough for us. I don't care who runs the place if I can go and have a good time and feel safe doing it - just like everyone else. I guess the cops get paid off, as usual."

As the crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk Vincent could see that they transvestites, bouncers, and bar staff were being herded into a paddy wagon. But the doors were left open and the wagon was unguarded, so after they'd been unceremoniously shoved in, the cops would go back to get another group, and the previous group would simply get out, to the cheers and applause of the gathering crowd. The odd flashbulb popped as the few members of the press who'd gathered took some shots for tomorrow's morning edition, and Vincent took a few more of his own, out in the open about it now.

"See," said Paul. "Theatrics. Tomorrow's papers'll show us being rounded up in a story about keeping the city safe for decent people. The politicians keep in sweet with the churches, the papers get good shots for people to be disgusted over with their morning coffee. Everybody's happy. And we'll be back tomorrow night as if nothing had happened."

"Except a lot of people are getting plenty pissed about it," John added. "The Negros did, and they're winning. More and more gays are talking about not taking it any more."

They watched as a group of the girls who'd just climbed down out of the paddy wagon lined up in a chorus line and started kicking up their legs and singing:

_We are the Stonewall girls  
We wear our hair in curls  
We wear no underwear  
We show out pubic hair...  
We wear our dungarees  
Above out nelly knees!_

As they were laughing, there was a sound of breaking glass, and they looked up to see a second floor window shatter. There was a collective "ooh" from the crowd as another rock flew overhead and another window shattered. Within a space of moments the mood of the crowd changed palpably.

"Shit," said Paul, turning to Vincent and Amanda. "Time to go. This is gonna get ugly."

Vincent looked around. "No - I'm gonna stay and get some photos." He turned to Amanda. "Honey, get back home - I'll be there soon."

Amanda looked around, then back at Vincent. "No - please. Come with me. This..." She was jostled from behind.

Paul grabbed her arm. "Come on, I'll come back with you. John - you coming or staying?"

"I'll stay with Vincent," he said. "He might need someone who knows the deal."

Vincent clasped Paul's shoulder. "Thanks, man - get her out of here." He kissed Amanda on the cheek. "Get going. We'll see you there.

Paul and Amanda hurried off, leaving Vincent and John to circle around to the back of the crowd, taking photographs of the increasingly angry scene.

o0o

"Oh wow. You know what? I think his ka's been damaged," said Willow, after Helen had finished telling her about Jake's relationship with his father.

"His car?" Helen looked puzzled.

"No - his ka," said Willow, sipping her yarrow tea.

"That's what I said," said Helen, who'd decided after the first sip that she didn't really want to drink anything that tasted like insecticide.

"No, you said 'car'. I said 'ka' - kay aye - you know - his spirit - like the Egyptian Book of the Dead?"

"Oh," said Helen uncertainly. "His ka."

"Yeah! The Egyptians really had it sussed. They wrote this book to instruct the spirit about what to do and what it'd meet on its journey to the stars."

"I don't think Jake's Egyptian. I think his grandfather was German."

"No, man, everybody's got a ka. And from what you say, I think Jake's has been damaged." She shook her head. "His old man must be the reincarnation of someone really evil - like maybe Ghengis Khan, or some warmonger like that. He needs spiritual healing!"

"Oh!" said Helen.

"And I have just the thing!" She got up and left the room, then came back a minute later and placed a small object on the table.

"What is it?" Helen asked.

"It's a pyramid of course!"

"Uh, well, I can see that..."

"But not just any pyramid. It's a crystal pyramid! It's really powerful!"

"Powerful?"

"Oh yeah! You know about pyramids, don't you? And crystals?"

"Well..."

"Pyramids are soooo cool! They focus cosmic energy! That's why the Ancients built them. The Ancients were Atlanteans you know! People think that the Egyptians built the pyramids, but they didn't. Even with all our technology today it would be impossible for us to build the pyramids. Oh no - it was the Ancients using psychic powers. And they built the pyramids to focus the cosmic energy into one tiny spot below the pyramid. And crystals focus cosmic energy too - you know that the Great Pyramid used to have a quartz capstone - that's crystal!"

"Oh," said Helen.

"So all we have to do is to get Jake to lie down, and we'll put the pyramid over his third eye..."

"Third eye...?"

"This is pretty cool," Jake said. "Who owns it?"

"No-one owns the land, Jake. We're all just custodians, holding it in sacred trust."

"Oh, yeah...of course..."

Grey Wolf, the tall, long-haired and suntanned man who Coyote had introduced as one of the nine members of the 'Aquarius Commune', sighed. "Of course not everyone understands that. We have to pay money to the capitalist who thinks he owns it. One day enlightenment will come and peace and brotherhood will rule."

"So how do you - you know - how do you get the money...?"

"We grow stuff. You know - vegetables, herbs. All organic of course. And we sell it. We're completely self sufficient. We've got goats to milk and make cheese and yoghurt, fruit, vegetables, all we need."

As they walked around the back of the farmhouse past some outbuildings, Jake felt something squelch under his foot. He looked down.

"It's cool, man," said Grey Wolf, "it's organic."

As he looked around to find an organic stick to scrape it off, Jake heard a low chanting.

"Ah, the sisters are out here. We've just finished the summer planting and they're asking the blessing of the spirits of the land. Come and meet them, Jake."

"Sure!" Jake said, relaxing a little and warming to Grey Wolf.

He led them round the corner to where a group of five women were standing in a circle, holding hands. Their eyes were closed and their heads tilted upward towards the sun, which shone hotly down in the early midsummer's afternoon, glistening on beads of sweat.

"Give us your blessing, spirits of the land..." said one.

"Spirits of the earth..." added the next.

"Spirits of the air..."

"Of the sun..."

"Of the rain..."

"We give you thanks." they said together, and slowly dropped hands and opened their eyes, smiling.

"Sisters," said Grey Wolf, "this is Jake, brother of Coyote. Jake and his lady, Helen, are crashing with us for a couple of days.

"Cool! Welcome Jake!" one of them said.

"Jake," said Coyote, "this is Clover, Snowflake, Leaf, Lindesfarne, and Anne."

They all smiled and welcomed Jake, as Helen and Willow rounded the corner. Willow introduced Lavender, adding that the boys were in town getting some supplies as the women left to go back inside.

"Wanna look around the rest of the place?" Grey Wolf asked.

"Later, man," said Coyote. "Right now I wanna let Jake sample some of the local produce. Join us?"

"Sure, man," he said. I just need to get the tools back in the shed. I'll catch you inside, huh?" He put his arm around Jake's shoulder and gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Good to have you here, man."

"Uh, thanks," Jake stuttered. "Great to be here."

Grey Wolf picked up some gardening tools and walked off with them towards the toolshed as Jake, Coyote, Willow and Helen walked back towards the house.

"Um," Jake started. "Do they, um..."

"I think what Jake's trying to ask," Helen said, "is do they always go around naked?"

"Oh, when they're invoking the spirits - of course! You have to be close to the land and the air." Willow answered.

"Or when it's hot." Coyote added.

o0o

"Hundreds of young men went on a rampage in Greenwich Village yesterday after a force of plain-clothes men raided a bar that the police said was well known for its homosexual clientele. Thirteen persons were arrested and four policemen injured."

Vincent stopped reading and put the New York Times down on the table.

"I'm just glad none of you were hurt." Amanda said, pouring herself another coffee as Wind finished his breakfast bottle.

"Me too. It got ugly pretty quickly once the uniformed cops arrived."

"It's started then." Amanda said, getting up to put the breakfast things in the sink.

"It?"

"The...marches - the fight. Like the Negros did. Paul said it's been brewing for years."

"Yeah. I guess it has," Vincent said, smiling. "If you hadn't met Paul we'd be reading this and wondering what the hell was going on. I'm going to go down to the Village and see if I can get some get some shots of the action."

"Be careful."

"You know it."

o0o

"So whaddayasay, Jake, my man? Care to sample a little of the commune's finest?" Coyote asked.

He was sitting on a purple vinyl beanbag. Opposite him, Jake had slumped into a yellow one under a Che Guevara poster while Willow came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a teapot and cups, followed by Helen with a plate of oatmeal cookies.

"Sure," Jake said enthusiastically. "I could eat."

"Eat?" said Coyote, looking a little puzzled.

"Yeah! You're talking about the stuff they grow, right?"

"Oh! Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about eating it, unless those cookies..." He looked at Willow.

"Straight oatmeal cookies, lover," she said, as Helen put the plate down on the table.

"No, man - I'm talkin' about the kind o' produce that you smoke," he said, producing a plastic bag half-full of dried dark green herbaceous material and putting it on the table.

Jake stared intently at the bag. Helen and Willow exchanged glances. Coyote pulled a pack of Zig Zag rolling papers out of his shirt pocket.

Suddenly, Jake leapt up out of the beanbag as if he'd been bitten. "Oh no! Drugs!"

Helen and Willow exchanged another glance. Coyote pulled three papers out of the packet. "Well, yeah, man. It's cool. You've never smoked before?"

Jake shook his head, nervously eyeing the bag, and glancing at Helen.

"Jake, m'friend," Coyote said, "I'm gonna be straight with you. Seems to me that you need to mellow out a little. And this," he glanced at the bag, "is the smoothest stone this side o' the bayou. To be honest, I think it'd do you a lot o' good."

Jake backed away, staring at the bag, as Coyote stuck the three papers together and started rolling a joint. On his third step he reached the arm of the sofa where Helen and Willow were sitting and fell backwards, landing across Willow's and Helen's laps, staring up into Helen's face.

"Arrrrrgggg!"

"Jake!"

"But Helen - drugs! What would your father..."

Helen glared down at him. "Smoke it!" she growled.

Jake reached out and picked up an oatmeal cookie from the tray. He slowly lifted it to his mouth, took a bite, and slowly chewed a couple of times. He froze, and his eyes widening.

"Oooohhhh maaannn! This is the best damn cookie I've ever had! Helen! You've gotta try one of these!" he said, passing her the plate and taking another for himself.

Helen took one and, like Jake, she took one and was about to burst into raptures when the unmistakable clatter of a Kombi van pulling up outside caught there attention.

"Ah - they guys and the kids are back from town," Willow said, as the door opened and a berry-brown child with curly strawberry blonde hair ran in and straight up to Jake.

"Hello!" he said with a big grin. "I Sage. Who you?"

"Hi Sage! I'm Jake," he said, grinning back at the agile child with eyes the colour of a desert sunset.

"Dake! Hi Dake! Who you?" he asked, turning to Helen.

"I'm He...Lavender."

"Lav'ner!" he said happily. "Hi Wiwwow, hi 'Yote!"

"Hi Sage, buddy!" said Coyote, holding his arms out and tossing Sage up into his lap as he ran into them. "Sage and his sister, Saffron, are Anne and Michael's kids. And that," he said pointing to the door, is Michael."

Michael was an older version of Sage, average height but muscled, with short, curly sunbleached hair. He carried two full paper bags which he put down on the table.

"Hi guys. You must be Lavender and Jake. I'm Michael - I see you've already met Sage. How was your trip?"

"It's only dope, man," said Coyote, giggling.

"Ah yes," grinned Michael, sniffing the air. "Aquarius Ambrosia. Good stuff, eh?"

"Great," said Jake, staring up at Michael and wondering where he'd seen him before.

"Wonderful," breathed Helen, realising that she was looking at the spitting image of Michelangelo's David.

Michael looked at the four of them, then at the plate of cookies. "Oh - Willow's oatmeal cookies - one left for me. Whaddayasay we share it, buddy?" he said, turning to Sage and breaking the last cookie in half.

"Yeah! Cookie!" said Sage, jumping down from Coyotes lap and taking the half cookie.

"Am I right in assuming that the munchies have set in?" he asked.

"Munchies?" Jake asked, puzzled.

"Oh wow!" said Michael. "Dope virgins! My friends, you're in luck. I just happen to have, though you may not know it, the keys to paradise right here in this bag." He reached into one of the paper bags and pulled out a chocolate bar. Willow and Coyote giggled as he unwrapped it, broke off four large pieces and handed them around, then broke of a smaller piece which he gave to Sage, who took it happily. "Now for the fun," he said, and sat down next to Willow.

Jake grinned a vacuous grin, half his mind trying to work out where he'd seen Michael before, half trying to remember that he was holding a piece of chocolate (which sounded pretty good every time he thought of it) and the other half thinking (if that was the word) that the world was a groovy place to be. He slowly lowered his gaze to the chocolate in his hand and concentrated on raising it to his mouth. He bit off a square, chewed, and felt all three halves of his mind implode.

Michael watched, grinning, watching Helen watching Jake. Willow and Coyote, unable to control themselves, started laughing and Jake, his eyes closed in a paroxysm of ecstasy, heard the laughter, opened his eyes, and caught the laughing bug.

Helen, meanwhile, had cautiously tried the chocolate. The flavour exploded in her mouth and her bloodshot eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my GGGOOOOOOODDDD! " she squealed, prompting another burst of laughter from Willow, Coyote, and Jake.

"There's nothing quite like that first dose of the chocolate munchies. I kind of envy you." said Michel, smiling.

Helen stuffed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth. "Ha' you go' any more?"

"No," Michael said, "but I've got something nearly as good. We don't usually get this crap, but I thought that the dog man might not be able to resist letting you sample the produce, so I made an exception." He reached into another of the paper bags and tossed her a large bag of potato chips.

An hour later they'd moved out onto the porch. The cloying scent of honeysuckle dribbled down over them in the still, cooling, air, deliciously spiced by the fading effects of Aquarius Ambrosia.

Willow and Coyote were sitting on a bench next to Michael and Anne. Helen was sitting on a step, leaning against a post, totally absorbed in the sunset that was turning the sky orange and green and golden. Sage's sister, Saffron, a nine month old toddler with hair the colour of pale honey was busy exercising her newly-discovered ability to walk by walking as fast as she could towards the edge of the porch, making Anne jump up and rescue her every time she got too close for comfort. Jake was lying on his back, his knees up in the air making a slide for Sage, both of them laughing and giggling.

Willow rested her head on Coyote's shoulder, chuckling at Saffron's antics. "Little Wind'll be doing that soon."

"I wonder how they are?" he said.

"Fine. I'd know if there was anything wrong," Willow answered dreamily.

"Hey," said Michael, showing Coyote the newspaper that he'd brought back from town. "That creep who they wanted for the Montana thing's been spotted around here."

Coyote took the paper and read.

_"Local police are searching for a man wanted in connection with the abduction and rape of a woman in Montana two months __ago. A green Pontiac matching the suspect's was seen at the Dew Drop Inn in Springdale, Wednesday. "Women travelling alone should be wary of anyone asking directions and trying to lure them to his car." Sheriff Michael LeFroy said. "This man is extremely dangerous._"

"Bastard," Coyote said, folding the paper and dropping it.

Sage climbed up on Jake's knees and, before Jake could reach out to catch him, slid downwards.

"Oooohhh," Jake groaned, sitting up and grimacing in pain.

"I sorry Dake! I hurt you?" Sage said, looking worried.

"No," Jake groaned, "it's okay, partner. But we might play something else for a while I think."

"Okay!" Sage said and ran up to the sitting Jake, throwing his arms around Jake's neck in an affectionate hug. "You a daddy too, Dake?"

"Not yet," Jake said, the pain in his groin overshadowed by a deeper pain, "but I should have been."

* * *

Endnotes: The scene in The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village on the evening of June 27, 1969, was as accurate as we could make it. The riot that ensued marked the beginning of the Gay Rights movement in the US.We have no idea what "nelly knees" are - the song that the women sing is as it was reported. The quote that Vincent reads is from the New York Times of June 29 1969, with reference to the time of the raid (3.00am) removed to fit in with the story.

* * *

**Stay tuned for the next instalment of All My Children.**

**Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright MTV except for Willy and his family who belong to us.

**Special thanks:** to all our wonderful beta readers: Floopyboo, RLobinske, NMorgendorffer, Gearhead, AhMyGoddess, Steven Galloway, TheBootstrapper; The Angst Guy; Brother Grimace

**Quirks:** Deref, who typed the words, is an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar conventions. He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's tried to keep in culture.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell Thea Zara or Deref - please?


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